Love Through a Lens II: Torn Apart
by superasia8
Summary: A barman and a photographer. Both so different, but so alike. The session has brought them together, but Dan's past may tear them apart. It casts a huge shadow over their relationship and, soon, it may be too late to rebuild any trust they've built. Dan must abandon his fear and bare his secrets or carry on with them. Is there a happy ending for these two? punk/photographer au
1. Chapter 1

**_If you've clicked on this story and haven't read the first part yet, I strongly advise you to do so in order to understand the context of this story. I've put some mentions of the first part so you remember what happened earlier, but reading the first part is essential (and who doesn't love long stories?) :D The title is Love Through a Lens and you can find it on my profile_**

 ** _Big merci to caustichowell from Tumblr who betaed the first five chapters :)_**

* * *

 _"_ _This is the rhythm of the night, the night, oh yeah,_

 _The rhythm of the night,_

 _This is the rhythm of my life, my life, oh yeah,_

 _The rhythm of my life_ _"_

 _[Bastille, Of the Night]_

He always considered himself to be a night creature. The late hour did nothing to his self-confidence. In fact, it let him stay invisible, stay out of anyone's attention. Balancing heavy carriers as he walks through the empty streets of London, Dan feels safe. More safe than he ever would in a daylight.

Phil and him hadn't talked in quite some time. Dan felt too self-conscious after what happened to visit or check up on the black-haired. It was as if their relation had suddenly gone back to square one, becoming raw again, with an invisible wall between them. Dan couldn't put his finger on the reason of it. Was it because of what he learned about Phil or was it because his own wall crumbled, if just a little, back then in Phil's flat?

From his experience, Dan learnt that people aren't trustworthy. They're tricky, easily betraying one another and easily leaving their friend who needs help if said friend has little bit too much on their plate for their own selfish goddamn comfort. What's so scary about problems? Is it the same definition of the word?

A troublemaker. Problems mean trouble, but what is it about trouble that makes so many people turn away? Is that really it? Or maybe it's all about a simple convenience. It's simple not to have to deal with anything nasty and shitty.

Dan shakes his head. It's too late to be thinking about this. His mind will drift into the parts he normally keeps under the lock and he can't let himself do that now. He can't let himself be engulfed in the past. It's reminiscent of what used to be, and it only serves as torture nowadays. He has to move on from his old friends, his past surroundings. For his and Phil's anything-that-is-between-them sake.

He doesn't want his past experiences to stay with him forever, but how can one pick a rose so carelessly as if for the first time, if they know about the thorns which decorate the beautiful flower? They can't, and that's Dan's problem.

Sighing, he takes a turn. It's two in the morning and he's on his way back from work. He's tired. No, he's plainly exhausted. His mind doesn't work as it normally does, and he finds himself nodding to his own thoughts.

 _Jesus, it must be bad with me,_ he thinks bitterly as he avoids hitting a lamppost in the mere last second.

He hadn't thought much about the deal which he and Phil agreed upon. He would rather not think about it; every time he does, a knot ties around his stomach and his heart skips a beat.

Dan is scared, more scared than he would want to admit in his lifetime. Because he fell. Somehow, in some twisted way he fell for the guy who draws like Picasso and takes delightful photos.

He shudders, but not from the cold, but at the same thought of when his and Phil's work will come to an end and they will have to make a final decision. Having no _'what ifs'_ , but a certain _'I know what I want'_ should help Dan, but it only brings a dark cloud over his mind. As much as he knows he wants Phil in his life, he can't help feeling insecure and terrified. Phil doesn't know a squat about the reality in which Dan lives. Dan has no idea about how he should break it to the ebony man either.

 _If I should break it to him at all_ , he adds sadly in his mind.

He awakes from his thoughts as his phone goes off. Dan cringes involuntarily as it lets out that high-pitched sound he hates so much, yet never bothers to change. Maneuvering his carriers into one hand, he answers the call, his right hand shaking dangerously with the weight of the bags it needs to carry.

"Hello?" he asks, silently hoping it's not Nessa calling him that he forgot to shut all the lights in the staff room _again._ He's ready to kill if he needs to go back to Raspberry Bar one more time that day.

"Dan?!", the shriek is so loud that Dan nearly drops his phone right there and then. "I- wow, sorry, I just didn't expect you to answer," the voice admits quietly and Dan's throat tightens.

He barely coughs up, "Phil."

They hadn't spoken a word to one another since the very day Phil opened hisheart and soulto him. Dan, as the perfect fuck up he is, couldn't give back the same gift he was given.

"I've called you like a hundred times!"

Dan winces at the indirect message and accusation.

He feels extremely guilty for not calling back or picking up calls. But is it really his fault that whenever Phil called him, Dan was at work or was too busy with Nat? Who, not to mention, recently started her teen phase, arguing and disagreeing with him at every possible occasion?

"Dan, are you there?", Phil questions but Dan feels _too much_ to answer.

What is his mouth even capable of making? He's so scared to lose Phil, but even more so, to let him in. He spends all his nights wondering about the best possible way he could tell him about Nat, about his father, Michael, about everything, but yet, as the sun comes up, he's left with nothing.

"I swear this phone is broken or..."

"No, it's not. I'm here," he hastily breaks in before the other hangs up. Dan's been putting this off for far too long. "I'm here," he repeats, more to ensure himself there's nothing to be afraid of about talking with Phil.

"Oh," lets out the black-haired and they're both silent for a moment.

Dan feels he should be the one speaking first, the first to explain himself. But once again, tremors pass his body and something closes around his heart as he finds himself unable to utter a word.

"I've called you a dozen times," Phil picks up the topic again, his voice gentle as if he's scared to start a war.

Dan stops in his tracks.

Sighing heavily, he lets his arms fall to his sides. He takes a shuddering breath, "I know, Phil, and I'm sorry, I just-" he pauses.

He what? What explanation can he give to Phil? That he was too occupied with keeping his job and his boss from finding the right excuse to dump him, is that really what he should say? Could Phil even understand him and place himself in his situation? He's not the same as Dan, after all. But then, life proved once that differences between them could be similarities, as well.

So what is really stopping him from saying all the right words?

"It's just work. You know how it is with having night shifts, sometimes they suck," he decides to say, rubbing the nape of his neck and yawning accidentally into the speaker, "Sorry for that," he apologises right away.

"It is two a.m. so I'll let that one slide," Phil jokes and Dan half smiles into the speaker.

"It is, indeed."

Silence falls between the two but this time, it's not so awkward. And Dan feels somehow content with none of them speaking, the same thought that there's someone he could speak to at any second comforting him. He carefully lifts his bags and starts his walk back home again, phone by his ear.

"Dan?"

"Yes?"

"Are you sure you're alright?"

 _'No'_ , is what he has in his mind.

"Yes," is what leaves his mouth. "I just got caught up in work, is all. We have loads of customers to serve these days," he explains, hoping it sounds convincing.

"Oh. I get that, yeah, I've been caught up in work too," Phil admits and Dan nods along to his words, even though the man can't see him.

The brunet walks in silence for a minute, the street lights gleaming with dim orange luminescence. He learned that practically no one wanders the streets at this hour, leaving out dodgy, suspicious individuals like him or that dealer he sees once in a while around just this corner.

"How's it going?" he asks, trying not to think much about the dealer. He's not scared of him, not at all.

Phil sighs into the speaker and Dan can easily picture him fixing his fringe, "Good, good..." his voice gentle, silk, just like when he entered Raspberry Bar for the first time. "I just miss you," Phil adds after a second and Dan's heart squeezes suddenly.

A warm feeling of being missed, of being _thought about_ fills every cell in his body. He suppresses the tears that threaten to leave his eyes. He swears he gets overtly emotional at two in the morning.

"Me too," he whispers shakily.

There's just something special about having the chance to be around Phil, to share the same space and air. It's magical, because Phil can make even the worst weather turn into a dazzling sun. And damn Dan's punk style, but he misses the black-haired's face, this silly but totally adorable tongue thing Phil does when he makes a joke, his fruity scent and that vibrant laugh that can make anyone want to reach the stars.

Dan enters the front door of the block of flats he and Nat live in. It looks derelict from the outside, which is an exact same picture of the inside interior, too. The paint peeling off of the walls, Dan carefully crawls up the stairs, trying not to make much noise.

"Hey, are you free this Friday maybe?", Phil asks out of the blue.

"Nah, I'm working a night shift," he replies quietly, half-distracted, as he looks up to check if any of his neighbours had come to the staircase for a smoke. He doesn't like the curiosity they always seem to have. If one of them recognises him, they'll surely call the police either from civil duty or just to get some money for finding _the_ runaway.

"That's inconvenient," Phil continues and Dan shakes his head, trying to remember what they were talking about earlier. Something about Friday, right? Dan rubs at his eyes as he starts his way up the stairs again, tiptoeing but making quite the sounds despite his best efforts.

"I thought we could go to a cinema?", the black-haired half-asks, half-informs. Dan halts abruptly, face turning red at the realisation that _Phil wants to take me out on a date, oh God._

"I'd love to, but I'll be done at around two. I doubt any cinema is open at that time." He would really love to spend some time with Phil, even something as simple as watching a movie together, but he finishes around two, just the same as he does nearly every day.

"Well, what about Saturday night then?", Phil prompts and Dan draws in a breath. His mind goes in all dirty places at the word _'Saturday night'_ , and he shudders, having finally reached the door of his flat.

Leaning on the door, he responds, a tingling sensation in his stomach, spreading slowly around his body as it reaches his heart at last.

"Sounds great," he mumbles, wondering how many shades of tomato have been on his face that day. "I'll just have to make sure I don't have any overtime to do."

"That's just fantastic!" Phil's voice beams with happiness, like the hour matters no longer, and Dan's answer just gave him a new energy that he can use to spread happiness all over the planet. Dan rolls his eyes at his own interpretation but smiles at how close he may be to the truth.

Bearing in mind that the door makes a characteristic squishy sound just when it's an inch from being opened up, Dan pushes them with more precaution than he would usually. Nat is surely sleeping and he'd feel incredibly guilty for waking up his little sister.

"So, a horror movie, an action movie, or a romantic comedy?", asks Phil as Dan pushes open the door and grinning Nat welcomes him from the other side.

Like hell he believes her when she says she wasn't just ear dropping. She couldn't have just woken up, her hair isn't tousled. Dan makes a mental note to have a chat about her sleeping habits later.

The teen winks at him and Dan feels the urge to slam his head into the cheap plastic door as his cheeks turn a fair rosy shade. What's stopping him from the action is the knowledge that his head would absolutely carve a shape into the door, just like all his neighbours' fists did, the door looking battered and as if a car tried to drive into their flat. Okay, Dan may be a little exaggerating, but it must have been at least a good twenty pound bike.

"So...?" Phil inquires.

Dan shuffles awkwardly and Nat only grins wider. How is that even possible, he won't question, he just knows the girl is changing into an actual Cheshire cat with every next second.

"Phil?" he swears under his breath for saying Phil's name as the word makes his sister's eyes widen in confusion (or maybe a surprise, he doesn't have much time to decide which one fits the description better), and then transform into that smug smile Nessie shot his way the first few times Phil walked into Raspberry Bar. "Phil, I'll call you back later, I've got to go, sorry," he cringes as the words come out of his mouth all at once.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just..." he breathes out, feeling his head is floating in that _'it's two am, what even is air'_ state. His head lolls backwards as he leans into the doorframe and he shakes it, some of his curly hair poking his eyeballs. "Long story, I'll explain later, okay?"

Phil giggles, "It sounds like you're just fighting an alpaca," he points out and Dan snorts.

"Well, you've got no idea how close you are," he replies, throwing Nat a look with a couple of daggers. The teen juts out her lower lip, feigning hurt and wiping fake tears off of her cheeks.

"Ha! I'm waiting to hear that story soon", says Phil and the corners of Dan's lips rise upward. He's looking forward to tell that story, too, if he puts away all his fears and uncertainties about Phil rejecting him.

"Sleep well, Dan."

Those exact three words are spoken with so much softness that Dan's heart stops for a second or two. There's so much gentleness in Phil's voice, as if Dan suddenly turned into a rare flower, its petals so thin if anyone touched it too roughly, they could close in and not let anyone to enjoy its formosity.

Dan's throat aches and he struggles as he whispers, "Good night, Phil," into the speaker. At this point, he has no idea whether he just doesn't care Nat will pick on him for it for _ages_ or if the moment feels too special to be interrupted only because of something such small as his dignity.

"Call me in the morning?" the other boy ensures. Dan feels guilt begin to form in his chest at the amount of desperation and pleading he hears in Phil's voice. Dan was the one who declined the calls. Jesus, there must be an actual prize for being able to mess up so many relationships in one lifetime. He would get _hundreds_ of those.

"Dan?"

"Oh, yeah, I will, Phil. I definitely will," he croaks out. Then he remembers the very presence of his younger sister in the room, and he rolls his eyes at the heart signs Nat sends his way.

"Okay, bye, Dan."

"Bye, Phil," he says sadly into the phone and the line drops dead.

The squeaking comes instantly and Dan scrunches his eyes in pain. Nat stares at him, apparently waiting for more information her imagination could feed off.

"I don't know if either I should ground you for that ear dropping or either close your mouth with a tape for like, ten years," he ponders out loud, putting his bag and the carriers with shopping on the small table and plopping down on a black knackered sofa which lets out a puff of air it gathered inside.

Nat jumps up to him, laughing carefreely at his joke, like they're not just in the middle of the night.

"Nat! The curfew!" he scolds her.

The younger rolls her green eyes at him as she drops on the sofa next to him, cuddling into him. "Does anyone ever abide it?" she asks as she nuzzles into his blouse.

"Yes. The people," he points out to her, yawning massively and leaning his head on his arm, exhausted.

Nat laughs bitterly at him, "Like that freaking Uncle John who gets so busted he mistakes our flat with his own?" Dan grimaces at the remark.

The Uncle John she talks about is obviously in no way related to them. The teen made up that nickname a while ago. Dan can't remember well where it came from. Probably from the first night Uncle John got so drunk he banged on their door, shouting obscenities at his _'supposed'_ wife to let him in.

"Well, he _is_ drunk when that happens," Dan says, matter-of-factly.

"But his flat is like on the sixth floor, Dan!" she exclaims, and he closes his eyes tightly as the sound echoes in his head with an angry buzz. "I'm not gonna sit quietly like a mouse when others are freaking cats!", she moves as she speaks and even this motion makes him dizzy in his _'nearly-dead-from-lack-of-sleep'_ feeling.

"Nat! Watch your language!"

"UGH, Dan, you're such an impossible human! I'm fifteen!" she objects, moving slightly away from him. Dan thanks his lucky stars for the space, because every inch of distance makes her shouting a little less cringey to his over sensitive ears.

"Nat-" he begins, when a loud bang cuts the arguing siblings.

Standing up, he groans inwardly. He takes a breath before he opens up the front door.

"The fuck do you think you're doing, huh?!"

 _Oh, just sweet_ , Dan thinks as his landlord, a forty-something man, spits in his face. The man looks beyond pissed, he's nearly eyeballing him, judging his tattooes like he always does. Dan likes to pretend it's because the man is simply jealous of his awesomeness.

(The thought is better than letting himself understand the man despises him for every breath he takes.)

"Uh, I was just going to sleep," he explains, leaning on the doorframe to hide Nat from the man's ever too curious gaze.

"Then sleep in the fucking silence! Do I need to remind you of the rent you already owe me?!" Dan looks down, feeling his cheeks redden in embarrassment. He's just being shouted at in front of his little sister. God, this is humiliating.

"No, sir. I'll pay you as soon as I get my payment," he promises and the man's face twists into an evil smile.

"I know," he says, "because if you don't, just pack your stuff. I don't even want to see your stupid face around here anymore if you don't pay me off in two weeks." Dan swallows heavily, nodding. The man leaves in silence.

The room's quiet.

Nat doesn't ask, but as he turns toward the sofa, a pair of scared green eyes of a fifteen year-old who went through too much search his, looking for some comfort.

Dan sits down on the sofa. As Nat nuzzles her head into the crook of his neck, he whispers, "We're not other people, Nat."

* * *

 _ **Review and let me know what you think of the second part. I love writing this story and I'm really excited because I've got some cool stuff planned ahead :D**_

 _ **Follow, favourite and review. Your support is much appreciated :)**_

 _ **Knock on my Tumblr and say hi: superasia8**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Big merci to caustichowell from Tumblr who betaed the first five chapters :)**_

* * *

 _"_ _Tell me more, tell me more,_

 _But you don't gotta brag_

 _Tell me more, tell me more,_

 _Cause he sounds like a drag_ _"_

 _[John Travolta and Olivia Newton John, Summer Nights]_

 _ **The song mentioned in this chapter is titled Summer Nights**_ _ **, from**_ _ **Grease**_ _ **soundtrack**_ _ **.**_

* * *

Her green eyes shoot open and her eyelids flutter at the sun shining directly into them.

 _Just like in those lovey-dovey movies_ , she thinks and turns on her side. She tries to nuzzle her way back into the safety and darkness that Dan's jacket provides, but finds it's no longer there.

Groaning at the inconvenience, she buries her head in the back of the sofa instead. As she does so, a tsk sound comes from behind her. Silence, then a rustle. A curse.

 _Definitely my brother._

Natalie's sure she would make a good cat as she stretches as one, turning around so she faces the room. She's practised and done this so many times, she nails it every time, never failing in making it look realistic. Waiting a second or two, she cracks her eyes open slightly, peeking at her brother. Dan is struggling with two heavy bags full of groceries. One tomato is really close to falling out of the carrier and the second bag is about to tip over.

 _That would make some rumble and that again would probably wake me up_ , Natalie deduces, observing her brother.

She doesn't have many chances to do so. Dan is so often out that they don't spend as much time as they used to. Everything changed drastically after Dan started his latest job. Nat doesn't know what her brother is doing for a living. Hell, what job requires to work at ungodly hours; from five p.m. to around two in the morning?

If Nat knew, she would tell a thing or two to the tyrant.

But as she's _just a teen_ , as Dan loves to repeat to her over and over again, she guesses no one would listen to her anyway. And it's not like arguing with someone who's paying Dan would make anything any better. Dan is the only making money and no matter how many times Nat offers she starts doing the same, the only response she gets is, _'Get to your books, kid_.' When Dan is too tired for arguments (which he knows well always end with her saying the last word), Natalie will only receive this disapproving look combined with a quirk of his eyebrow or merely a roll of his eyes.

Dan is so overprotective of her. If he could put her under bulletproof glass, he would demand they checked it first thousand times. Most of the times it was annoying as heck. She wasn't ten, after all. But then, at times like this, with Dan making it his main mission not to wake her up as if it was the top priority in his whole life, how could she be angry with him? Under all those tattooes and eyeliner her brother wore from time to time, inside Dan is a squish and a bear to hug the living lights out of.

"You're too big to be sneaky, Danny," she comments and Dan yelps in surprise. Both bags land on the floor.

"Flying fuuu- mother of moles, holy crap, Natalie," he curses silently, gathering the tomatoes and other vegetables back into the bag. He glowers as Natalie sends him a massive grin.

Dan collects the shopping at last and Natalie loses him from her sight for a second. She hears sounds from the kitchen; that's probably her brother putting away the groceries. She yawns and lies on her back, upside down, waits for Dan to come back.

"I didn't know worms wake up so soon from their slumber," he remarks, making his way back into the small living-sitting room.

"I ain't a worm, Danny," she pouts as Dan takes a seat beside her.

Smiling, he asks, "Breakfast time?" and tucks loose strands of her brown hair behind her ear. Natalie, rolling her eyes at the gesture but not commenting on it, shakes her head.

"Did I wake you up, then?" he asks and Nat senses his guilt train choo chooing in the distance.

"I promise that when you finally manage that, I'll call the queen to give you an order," she jokes, nudging Dan lightly to get him not to stress about it. Dan breathes out, laughing quietly. He lowers his eyes, averting her gaze.

"So," she speaks after a minute, diverting Dan's attention from whatever stupid and invalid thoughts are haunting his mind this time. Her brother is intelligent and really smart but then there are times like this when his IQ drops below the average.

Natalie pokes her brother in the side, winking at the brunet, "Phil, you say?"

A fleeting surprise, then realisation passes over Dan's face. Cheeks flushed, he mumbles, "He's a friend."

Natalie quirks an eyebrow. The call seemed more intimate, from what snippets she's heard. And she's sure she heard something about a cinema, too, seconds before Dan opened the door and caught her red-handed. But maybe she's exaggerating and Phil is just his friend. Dudes can go to cinemas as friends as well as girls can, after all.

But then, there's Dan's burning cheeks.

Which can't be a certain evidence, but. . .

"A friend?" she decides to dwell on the subject more. Maybe that'll get her brother to talk.

The brunet rolls his eyes at her, his tone a little offended. "A friend," he huffs, but the red colour from his cheeks doesn't fade.

"And. . .?" she prompts, leaning in, waiting for him to continue.

Dan stares at her like he doesn't understand her; eyebrows scrunched together and a question mark nearly written on his face.

Natalie groans in frustration. Turning so she lays on her belly, she puts her chin on her hands, puppy eyes turned on. She looks at Dan pleadingly, "Tell me more, Danny."

The brunet throws her a disapproving glance, but it softens. Probably caught on her puppy eyes. Works flawlessly.

"He's. . . a friend," he adds after a moment of silence. Glancing down, he carries on, gladly without Nat pushing him to do so anymore, "I met him at my work. Totally by accident. We're. . . friends." Dan repeats himself as if Nat didn't get that the first time he said it.

"Okay, and you and that _friend_ , what do you do? I mean, are you going to meet him? Are you going to cinema with him?" she asks and Dan glances up at her, eyes wide.

"How do you-"

"Heard your call, _okay_ , I'm sorry," she apologises, not feeling sorry at all.

She grins as Dan rolls his eyes at her, muttering, _'Knew it',_ under his breath.

She pokes Dan's side again, "Tell me more."

"Well, there's not much to tell. We're working together and then-"

"Wait, _working? Together?_ ", Natalie asks, scrutinizing her brother.

"Shit."

She tilts her head to the side. Dan fidgets on the floor where he perched down.

Crossing his arms, he stammers, "Umm, we- I agreed to pose for him."

As he finishes his sentence, Natalie gapes at him with her mouth open, almost touching the floor.

"You- you. . ." she stutters. Alarms go off in her head then, "Dan, this is not what I think it is, right?" she asks, half-doubtful, half-convinced she may be right.

Dan looks at her questioningly. For a second, he says nothing, but as he catches up to her train of thoughts, his face scrunches in disgust and terror.

"No, Jesus, Nat. No, it's not like _that_."

Natalie laughs, feeling dread leaving her body,

"Oh God, that's good because if it was something like _that_ , your Phil would get punched," she promises solemnly. She gives herself a moment to retrieve her breath before speaking again,

"So you're a model now. . ." she mutters, summarizing all the facts she's gathered so far.

She looks up at her brother and for a fleeting moment, she wonders why Dan watches her as though he expects her to say something. But then, she realises she hasn't voiced any opinion on the news yet. After all, she _does_ comment everything.

"Don't get me wrong, Dan, this is. . . this is just, wow, amazing," she brings her hands together and then quickly apart, in a _'boom'_ gesture. "Just give me some time to adjust and I'll definitely find some better words to express my happiness," she answers his unspoken questions and Dan nods slowly, acknowledging her response.

"But, you are okay with that?"

Natalie rolls her eyes. Of course she's okay with modelling, as long as Dan's okay with it.

"Yes, you can do whatever you want with that Phil, it's totally okay with me. It's not like I have any voice in that matter," she mumbles to herself. "Anyway," she speaks, a glint in her emerald eyes, "What about that date? When are you going out?"

Dan looks down for a moment, rubbing at the nape of his neck nervously, his gaze staying on his pocket, where his phone is.

"I don't know. . . Probably at Saturday, but, I've got work then and-"

"Ha! Gotcha!", Nat laughs at the confused face of her brother. She continues, in a childish tone, "I said _'date'_ and you didn't deny it," she finishes with a victorious feeling, poking out her tongue at Dan whose face is flushed.

"Oh God," he mutters, burrowing his head in his hands.

"Tell me more, tell me more! Was it love at first sight?" she sings _Grease_ , jumping up and down on the sofa, her brown hair bouncing with her.

She laughs as Dan tickles her side and Nat fights back, patting at his hands. At last Dan brings her down, promising it's peace for tickle war. For now.

Natalie takes a seat beside Dan on the floor, her laughter slowly decreasing. It's not the most comfortable spot on the world so she slips into his lap. Dan wraps his arms around her, an unconscious motion by now.

Natalie turns her head to Dan and listens carefully to every word her brother says.

"We are friends," he begins and Nat opens her mouth to comment on how _'friends don't do dates'_ but Dan carries on, "I don't know if we're anything more, though. We haven't talked about that yet. It's. . . complicated." He falls silent after that and his lips turn downward in a frown.

"What's the problem, then?", she whispers, staring into his brown eyes, now foggy with regret from some reason. For Natalie, it's simple, "You like him, he likes you," she points out and Dan stares at her like she discovered another planet. "Don't ask me how I know, it's just one of a little sister's tricks," she jokes.

She takes a breath, looking down at her hands. "Our doors suck. Way too thin," she mutters, as a way of explanation. Her head snap upward and her eyes rest on Dan's, "He cares about you," she mumbles. "Could hear it in his voice."

She casts her eyes to the floor.

Will Dan leave her? She is, after all, an annoying teen. And Phil is probably an adult, with his responsible mind and serious business and all. And if Dan gets to know him better and notices that Natalie is only holding him back from doing anything significant in his life? Nat doesn't know where a teen can get a job nor how to avoid people asking about real age. She has no idea how to deal with nosy landlords as well. If she's left on her own, she's got no knowledge as to where she could go, where she could sleep, or how to make money; she knows nothing!

Her breath hitches and she balls her hand into a fist.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?" whispers Dan, leaning in closer to her.

Natalie clears her throat. She doesn't give him an answer. She must know only one thing. One thing and Dan's leaving won't hurt her as much.

"Do you like him?" she questions quietly, without looking up.

"Yes, he's nice-"

"Do you _really_ like him?" she pressures and this time, she fixes her gaze with Dan's.

Dan stares at her, his mouth opening and closing. He puffs out, "Do you mean if I love him?" He asks softly, words nearly a whisper as though they're sacred.

"You see, Dan. . ." Natalie drags on, getting out of his lap and standing up, " _I_ didn't say that."

With that, she makes her way into the kitchen.

"You were supposed to call someone in the morning, dummy, remember?" she says over her shoulder as she opens the kitchen cabinet.

 _. . : : torn pagebreak : : . ._

Phil puts his bowl into the sink when his phone rings. He nearly jumps up in excitement, quickly drying his hands on the back of his pajamas trousers. Smiling like crazy, he crosses his kitchen in record time and jogs to the sofa in the lounge, to where his phone lies.

He puts the device to his ear and plops down on the couch behind him.

"Hey, didn't know noon is still morning to you," he speaks into the speaker.

His smile fades though, as he listens to the caller, _"Phil? Am I calling in a wrong time?"_

He clears his throat, his face turning red. "Shoot, sorry, PJ. I was expecting someone else," he explains and grimaces at how rude it sounds. "I mean, I thought it was," he tries again, but stops at last, deciding he's got no way to fix his fail smoothly. Sighing, his shoulders slouch, "I didn't see the caller ID, sorry."

PJ laughs, _"That's okay, dude. I'm just calling to ask you if you'll be there on today's lecture?"_ Phil hears some commotion from the other side, _"Oh, Chris, that hurt!"_

Phil's eyes fly open and he's just about to end the call before something he's not supposed to hear reaches his ears.

 _"I mean,_ Chris _is asking if you'll be there,_ " the brunet explains and most probably directed at Chris, tone scolding, he adds, _"which he could point out in a polite way!"_

Phil laughs, glad for not being the one who was calling in the wrong time.

"'Course I will, I always am, aren't I?"

He can almost see Peej rolling his eyes, _"That's what I told him but he kept insisting I make sure."_

"Why? Are you two planning a wedding or something?" Phil says jokingly.

He's met with silence.

"God, you're getting married?!" he all but squeaks into the phone.

 _"Shh!"_ PJ silences him. _"Don't tell him anything yet, I- I don't know if he says yes_ , _"_ the boy confesses.

"Oh, that's just absurd!" he replies, without second thought.

It's obvious the two are in love, how can PJ even question Chris's answer to his proposal? Phil then thinks about him and Dan and what he himself would do in a situation like PJ's. Granted that Dan and he were boyfriends (how delightful the phrase sounds), Phil is more than sure he would be scared as heck to ask the question.

Thrown off balance, Phil drags on, "I'm sure it will be okay, PJ," even though he's not so sure anymore. An idea pops in his mind, and he offers, "Hey, maybe you'd like to meet? Or get some beer or whatever students do to hang out?" PJ's laughter flows through the phone.

 _"Yeah, Phil, they basically do that. And a coffee would be just fine."_

"Great, I'll catch you later, then?"

 _"Yeah. . ."_ Peej pauses. _"Oh, and, Phil?"_ he asks.

"Yes?"

 _"You should let us meet that boyfriend of yours sometime soon."_

"PJ!"

 _"Chris told me he calculated that in every ten sentences, there's at least one mention of Dan,_ " he explains and Phil couldn't help himself and his mouth broke into a grin. _"So it's academically proved."_

"Whatever, nerds," he mutters, a ghost of smile on his face.

 _"Anyway, I'll see you later. Bye!"_

"See you, PJ!"

Putting his phone beside, Phil lets out a long breath, resting his head on the brown and black cushions and closing his eyes.

Never would he expect PJ and Chris to go further. Of course, one day, but so soon? They both were students, both without a degree yet. Phil doesn't know what's making PJ hurry. It can't be any of their family's expectations. As far as he knows, their relatives are still living in oblivion.

His phone vibrates with notification and Phil reaches blindly for the device.

 _Probably text from PJ,_ he thinks as he unlocks the screen.

 _Missed calls: 2_

 _From: Dan :)_

"Shoot, shoot," he repeats, tapping at his phone quickly.

Sitting straight, he waits for Dan to pick up.

One buzz, second buzz. . .

 _"Hi,"_ comes from the phone and Phil must stop himself from breathing out. That would definitely make him look creepy.

"Hey, Dan."

 _"Phil."_

"I didn't know that noon is still morning," he mumbles, upon having nothing else in mind. Dan laughs, softly, and Phil decides he wants to hear it more often.

 _"Yeah, working night shifts will do that to you."_

"So I wondered if we could meet?"

Only silence comes from the other side so Phil hurries to fill it,

"To talk and catch up? I understand if you're busy, with your work, I mean, I- I won't be mad, I just. . ." he finishes, _'miss you a lot'_ caught in his throat.

Dan breathes out deeply, and what Phil hopes isn't but seems to be, shakily,

 _"No, it should be okay,"_ he speaks, uncertain. _"Usually I have the weekends off so it should be no problem."_

Phil doesn't question the amount of _should be's_.

"That's great. There's only one case left. . ." he whispers mysteriously into the speaker, playing with the buttons of his blue shirt.

 _"And what could that be, Philip?"_ Dan asks teasingly.

Phil decides to play the game of names, heck the consequences.

"Oh, Daniel, Daniel, I thought you know what's the most important."

 _"No, I don't,_ Philip _,"_ says Dan mockingly. _"Would you mind sharing the secret with the audience?"_

"It's a secret, Daniel!" he scolds the brunet, trying to sound offended. "You know how those work."

A sharp intake of breath comes from the other side and Phil scrunches his eyebrows.

"Dan?"

 _"Shit, I just spilled my tea all over."_

Phil's eyes widen, "Are you okay?"

 _"Kinda. God, good I'm not in public,"_ he confesses. _"It looks like I've had an accident."_

Phil imagines the brunet with spilled tea all over his super tight skinny jeans. Suppressing a snort at how hard it is to get out of wet skinny jeans, he replies,

"No A&E needed?"

 _"No,"_ the reply is barely a grunt and Phil laughs. Dan groans and Phil hears a smack, _"I've got work in the evening."_

Eyebrows raised, Phil prompts, "So. . .?"

 _"Do you think going to work with a wet spot is a good idea?"_

Phil giggles.

"I can see where your frustration comes from," he agrees and Dan mutters something like _'Reasons why Dan's a fail'_ in a song-like tone. "Can't get another pair though, Mr Smart?" he teases, sitting on the sofa in a casual way and stretching his legs.

 _"In laundry,_ _asshat,"_ he remarks. _"Phil, I've got to go, sorry. You know, have the world and jeans to save and all,"_ Dan jokes but Phil senses distress behind his words.

"That's fine, Dan," he assures. "Just don't show up with a wet crotch at work. That probably wouldn't get you a promotion," he points out. Dan laughs dryly.

 _"I guess it wouldn't. Gotta go, I'll talk to you later?"_ , the brunet asks and Phil feels warm and fuzzy inside that he considers that an option.

"Of course," he says. "Wouldn't pass up the opportunity to hear how you got away with your jeans."

He hears Dan let out a chuckle, _"Bye, you little perv."_

* * *

 ** _Hope you enjoyed! I love writing scenes with Nat, it's so fun to experiment with her. She's quite unpredictable, you've no idea how many times she wants to sneak out! Those kids :p_**

 ** _Anyway, if you liked, tell me in a comment! It will make my day and is very nice. There's literally no reason against leaving a comment - apart from hate. Every time you transform your thoughts into a comment, the author's heart skips a beat. It's accademically proved, guys, no kidding._**

 ** _Comment, subscribe and kudo! Remember - academically proved! :D_**

 ** _Knock on my Tumblr and say hi: superasia8_**


	3. Chapter 3

**_Big merci to caustichowell from Tumblr who betaed the first five chapters :)_**

* * *

 _That you all have guns,_

 _And you never put the safety on,_

 _And you all have plans,_

 _To take it, to take it,_

 _Don't take it, take it, take it._

 _[Twenty One Pilots, Guns for Hands]_

Phil may not be gullible. But he couldn't have picked up on how much his little comment unnerved Dan. He doesn't have telepathy skills, it's near impossible.

Dan hopes so, at least.

Because if Phil Lester turns out to be a medium. . . But no, that couldn't be. He wouldn't treat Dan like he does if he knew. . . everything. Or would he? What if truth leads to understanding-

"Dan."

It doesn't, no. No one has stayed with him, yet. After knowing the real him. Even Kevin isn't fully sure of what Dan's story is about.

"Dan?"

"The beer is out already?" He turns around to Nes, a glass in one hand and a drying-up cloth in other.

The girl clears her throat, smoothens out her shirt. Tucks a loose strand behind her ear, looks down and up at him.

Dan quirks an eyebrow,

"If it's about me taking another Friday so you go on a hot date with Rich-" he doesn't finish the sentence, lets the meaning hang in the suffocating air of Raspberry Bar between them.

"No, it's not. Oh God, it's stupid, I'm so stupid," she chokes out, a rustling sound comes from behind him. Probably her moving her weight from one foot to the other. Wiping her hands on her apron.

She's nervous.

Dan abandons the glass, sets it back on the shelf. Fully faces his friend.

"Are you alright, Nessa?" he asks because it seems like the most reasonable question at the moment.

The girl laughs, but there's no joy or amusement in her voice. It's more as if her chords are tightly held back. Made to be acting, playing a role, a puppet; not an unrestrained improvisation she can enjoy.

"Something up with Rich?" he guesses, leaning back on the bar slightly. Damp from all the drinks customers spill on it, the wood sticks to his black t-shirt and his back and he grimaces at the feeling. He forgot to clean the bar. If Michael notices, he's already lost his day wage.

"It's not that, Dan," she mumbles, her eyes fixed on the floor.

Forehead wrinkled, Dan encourages,

"I'm all ears, then," but a customer taps his shoulder. He rolls his eyes at the timing but faces two giggling women, one another trying to dunch the other.

"What can I get for you?" he sings with a smile on his face.

It's soon obvious the girls' intention is a longer talk. Away from the pub's dim lights and choking air.

Dan prepares their malibus, laughing politely at the jokes and innuendos, as though he appreciates their flirting. The women will probably not even remember the name of the bar in the morning, looking at how desperately they seem to cling to each other.

"Your drinks, ladies," he sets two glasses in front of them and sends Nes a glance. Should he serve them, hadn't they had enough already? But his co-worker, lost in thoughts, doesn't notice his glaring.

Dan breathes a sigh of relief when two men come up to the bar and the girls greet them, visibly knowing them very well.

As the four leave, one of the girls, a blonde with a cat top on, slips a scrap of paper between his fingers. Winking at him, she mouths ' _call me'_ and then she's gone.

A bit flushed and shaking his head in amusement, he turns to Nes to comment on tipsy people's bravery.

"Okay, you know what, I'm just gonna start because if I don't, I'll end up rambling and that is definitely not my purpose." It all comes in one long sentence and Dan's eyebrow raises. "Oh God, I'm already doing it, aren't I?" Nes glances at him, looking for agreement.

Dan stores his observation about their customers for later. Massaging his temples, he raises his hands in an attempt to stop the ongoing flow of monologue.

"Okay, okay, just one at a time, Nes."

"I- Alright." She takes a quick breath, rolling her shoulders as she goes back up to the wall, a shelf with bottles of alcohol up to the ceiling behind her. "I know I've said it already but that doesn't make me feel any less of a dick."

Dan blinks, feeling he knows the course this conversation is taking.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so horribly sorry. I've fucked up as a friend, Dan," he still grimaces as he realises his prediction is right. "I've said things I shouldn't have. As a friend and as a human. I've made my judgement, based on zero knowledge I still don't have and don't understand many things and why you do them. . ." Dan pulls a face, shifting on his feet. If this goes the same way it did last time-

"Anyway, that's not the point," the girl says quickly, avoiding his eyes.

Her shoulders sag and her expression turns regretful. A wrinkle crosses her always smooth forehead and her eyes change from playful to serious, if not a bit sad.

"I've fucked up as a friend, Dan."

Dan opens his mouth to assure her they've buried that torch already, but the girl stubbornly carries on,

"And don't tell me I didn't," she cuts him off, looking up. "Dan, you're precious and will probably try to convince me I didn't do wrong, or that it wasn't anything bad, but," she pauses, "I know I've made a mistake," she confesses and averts his eyes. Her voice turns quiet, "And, hell, if I could rewind, trust me, I'd slap myself for saying these words then and make myself publicly plead for your forgiveness after."

A small smile creeps onto Dan's face at the image in his head, and at Nes's honesty.

"I won't try to push you again, Dan," she sniffs.

"I won't make you tell me what you're not comfortable with. Even though curiosity _is_ killing me," she admits, "it's unfair of me to expect you to tell me your whole life biography. It's not my business after all," she concedes and her expression turns sad.

"But," she adds, almost a whisper, but growing in intensity, as her eyes fix on his, staring at him as though she tries to see past his soul, "if there's anything, _anything_ , Dan, that you'd like to talk about with me, I'm always here, okay? I know this will probably mean nothing, after all I've said, but you've got a friend in me," she promises.

Dan rapidly blinks away the tears in his eyes. He didn't expect this to turn into such emotional speech. Damn it, his bad boy look will be screwed if anyone sees it.

But as he observes Nes and the nervous way she munches on her bottom lip and glances at him from time to time as though he's going to bite her head off, he decides he doesn't care about people's opinions.

Dan closes the small distance between them and crushes the girl with a tight hug. Her raspberry perfume doesn't smell that bad anymore, now akin to feeling of a little home he left somewhere behind, a place he could return to at anytime and be sure to find the same trusted person there every time.

He only whispers ' _thank you'_ because that's how much his voice lets him to do before his throat closes again, like a vulture closes its paws around its prey's throat. His throat feels clogged and stuffed.

The feeling of her smile is a prize he didn't consider he'd love to win.

 _. . : : torn pagebreak : : . ._

He can't help suppressing a grimace of disgust from twisting his face.

 _Raspberry Bar._

He quirks a brow at a sulky man sitting right beside him.

 _The worst name anyone could ever come up with._

"Joey!" comes from his left and from corner of his eye, a red-haired girl walks out of the staff room. Long legs, curly hair, nice ass. He could ask her out sometime. Maybe this so called Raspberry Bar isn't so bad?

"I hoped I wouldn't see you here again," the girl chats up the slouched man next to him, pouring him another shot. The ripe smell of cheap whiskey fills his nostrils and he crinkles his nose. His father used to drink similar.

The man smiles sadly at the red-haired, raising his drink in a greeting manner before downing it in one take. His not so cheap suit, but not especially expensive either, is wrinkled, brown leather shoes that must have cost a good money haven't been polished for a while. A three, maybe four day stubble presents itself on his face and his eyes are grim. The man looks battered at last.

 _A divorce in progress, most probably,_ he deduces.

Looking away, he shakes his head to direct it back to its tracks. Delving on some middle- aged man's problems isn't the reason he came to this hole, after all.

The girl makes an unsatisfied sound though. She stares down the man, hands on her hips, "You know you could've talked, you two, right?"

He rolls his eyes in annoyance at why would anyone bother lecturing a full-grown man and at the fact that this is all just stupid small talk.

He hates small talk.

"And I wish it worked that way," the man replies as he sets his glass down, sighing. The girl gives him another hard glance but the man only smiles, "You'll never stop mothering your customers, won't ya?"

The red-haired lets a smile appear on her face, if just for a second.

"You know me too well, Joey," she takes his glass from the bar. "We'll be closing soon, anyway. And _you_ need sleep," she pressures. The man looks down for a moment, as though he's been caught red handed.

Taking out his wallet to pay, Joey, the man in divorce and with a soon-to-be-in-ruins business sits up.

"You're probably right, as always. Well, I better be off then. See you again," and with that, he's gone.

 _Finally_ , he comments in his mind.

The girl turns to him, "And what can I get for you?"

A charming smile he has practised in front of a mirror so many times falls onto his face. This one reserved for when he wants to get something out of pretty girls like this one.

"Just beer, please."

The girl nods and fills a glass with the amber liquid, setting it in front of him.

"Here you go," she smiles at him. He smiles back.

"Thank you," he replies, taking the glass into his hand and as the girl turns to serve someone at the other part of the bar, he places his beer back on the bar, smile disappearing. He pulls out his phone, checking the time.

He couldn't have been wrong, the guy should be working a night shift here, as he had learnt earlier from a pair of men who were eager to give him information for twenty pounds. It was a little surprising how easy it was to determine position of the twenty-something guy. He just hoped it wouldn't take him too long to get the answers he needed, too.

With his phone out, he opens the Crossy Road, hoping to beat his high score.

 _Stupid game_ , he thinks as his chicken gets run over by a train. He looks up.

There he is, and the man by the bar thinks ' _finally'_ as Danny De-No-Vito makes an appearance. His clothes are pretty much worn out and baggy, but not dirty. He seems exhausted, as there are bags under his eyes and he blinks a lot, likely insomnia or sleep deprivation. He looks weak, thanks to the oversized shirt, but at the same time is carrying a box of alcohol. It must weigh a lot so his suspicion is probably wrong.

Dan leaves the box on the floor and is sorting out different bottles, setting them in their right places when he, the man in a fancy black shirt which was not fitting at all in a bar like this, decides to finally get to business.

"Hey! Hey, Dan, am I right?" he calls out, leaning toward the guy and smiling warmly.

 _My cheeks are gonna hurt so bad after today._

Danny De-No-Vito turns around. One of his eyebrows furrow as he's being motioned to come closer.

"Sorry, but, do I know you?"

The man shakes his head in disbelief, at the same time bringing his arms on the bar. Look open and honest because the kid is suspicious.

"Man, did he not tell you? I'm one of Phil's friends!" he exclaims, like it's supposed to bring any memory back into his head. Of course it won't, as the Danny is seeing him for the first time in his life.

The guy still scrunches his forehead and tries to remember the face of a man he's never seen yet.

"No, sorry, nothing comes to my mind," he replies, a true regret painted on his face.

The man waves it off, "That's okay, man. He probably forgot to tell you," he says and his lie seems to calm down the guy. The wrinkle disappears.

 _Gotcha._

"Anyway," now some specifics, just a little more time till he gets his answers, "I was supposed to give this to Phil," he explains, bringing out an ordinary, black case on the bar. "He told me to drop it by to you. Said he couldn't meet with me." He looks away, has to look not as quite focused on their talk as he truly is. He observes the guy as he pretends to check his phone. Danny looks at the black file that was bought at a random shop.

 _'Oh no, I forgot about Philly's order,'_ must be going through that stupid boy's head. The man bites on his bottom lip to stifle a laugh.

When he's sure his desire has dissipated, he picks up his monologue,

"You know how he is," he stares at his fingernails for a second before looking up. He smiles at the brunet, "Always a busy bee, always off to create something. . . amazing," he nearly spits out the last word and reprimands himself to keep up his act.

Can't fuck this up now. He's so close to getting the information, so close that if he makes a mistake, he'll regret it dearly.

Danny De-No-Vito responds with a small smile though. His eyes, glinting with sentiment, cast to the file as he mutters, "That's true."

The man feels it's his luck he catches that peculiar glint. Pocketing his phone, he leans in, nursing his beer.

"So, how do you know Phil, actually?" he asks in a friendly manner and sips on the amber coloured liquid again. Smiling although a grimace almost twists his face at the taste of such not refined drink.

Dan glances, probably wonders if he can trust a man he doesn't know.

You shouldn't, but that makes my job easier.

At last, he reaches for the case and replies, stammering slightly,

"Uhh, by accident."

"But how long have you known each other?"

A minute or two, the questions will bring suspicion and his one and only chance will be lost. God be with him and stop the red-haired girl from coming back just yet.

"Excuse me?" Dan asks, taking a step back, holding the case as a shield.

The man knows he must have fucked up somewhere, but he carries on,

"You must be working together, right? Are you helping him with the recent session?"

Danny De-No-Vito's face scrunches up, just as if he were the actor with a 'what the fuck' written on his features.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your name earlier?"

The man is fucked. Fight or flee.

It's flee this time.

He pulls out his phone, scrunches his brow as though he has just read the most shocking message the world has ever seen, when in fact, he's staring at the clock. Shocking.

"Didn't want to freak you out, mate," he defends himself, feigning a little hurt as he brings his hands up in surrender. "Is this an interrogation?" he asks, hoping it creates guilt in the pit of the brunet's soul.

A short, nervous, and this time not even needed to be fake, laughter leaves his mouth. As it dies down, he explains, turning his tone more serious,

"I just want to make sure he's hanging around with good folks, is all. And I can see he is."

De-No-Vito's head hangs low as a blush creeps onto his cheeks.

The man sighs in relief.

"No, it's okay," Danny sighs as he looks up and down, "I just overreacted, sorry."

 _Perfect._

The man thinks not all is lost yet. And so he tries again,

"So how did you meet?"

The boy still shifts on his place, but the guilt seems to win the totally rational thoughts that must be screaming at him with _'You don't even know this man!'._

"We didn't actually meet, you know. It was more like we-"

"Do I pay you for talking to the customers, huh? Get back to work," a man behind the brunet growls and De-No-Vito pales.

Danny nods in understanding and throws him a _'sorry'_ look.

The man takes it as his cue to leave. He has already spent too much time in this suffocating pub. He waits, though, till the manager, or the boss, leaves. Only then he stands up, beer untouched as he takes out his wallet.

"I better go before I cause you any more trouble," he explains, hurriedly putting his coat on. He throws the money, as though he hasn't even checked how much he's giving. He counted it earlier.

He does a quick spin and heads out to the door, phone by ear.

"Hey, wait, what was your name again?"

His muscles pull into a victory smile as he pushes open the metal doors, lungs filling with fresh air of the London. As fresh as it could be at London's standards. Anything will be fresher than that choking atmosphere of the bar with the worst name on the planet.

He is happy. Everything will soon fall onto its place. He'll find a way and beat Phil at the contest. Then, there will be left only a bunch of amateurs which he needs to bump out of his way. Priorities first though, Phil. If that black-headed perfectionist gets knocked out of the game, then the floor will be all his.

He may also need to break a few legs after Philly's out, too, but that's the price for a dream come true, isn't it?

* * *

 ** _Who is the mysterious guy? Do you have some bets? Tell me if you do! Hope you liked that cleansing chatty chat with Vanessa. I think they both needed it, had too much that they didn't talk about ;)_**

 ** _If you like, leave a comment and let me know! I love to hear from you guys AKA other-people-who-aren't-me-and-are-excited-about-the-story-too :D_**

 ** _Comment, kudo and don't forget to subscribe so you get a nice email when a brand new chapter is up!_**

 ** _Knock on my tumblr and say hi: superasia8_**


	4. Chapter 4

**_Big merci to caustichowell from Tumblr who betaed the first five chapters :)_**

* * *

 _There's an albatross around your neck,_

 _All the things you've said,_

 _And the things you've done,_

 _Can you carry it with no regrets,_

 _Can you stand the person you've become?_

 _[Bastille, Weight of Living]_

Vanessa gets rid of the last speck of dirt she notices on the bar and only then she's satisfied with her job. Dan's in the back, sorting through boxes and checking which alcohol they need to order. She couldn't wrap her head around to do it that day but luckily, Dan, the sweetheart he is, agreed to do it for her.

She looks over the bar one last time, her eyes glazing over the chairs resting on top of the tables and the mopped floor. Saturdays were crazy, as they always were. But happily she got through it. She feels lucky to have Sunday off. If she were to work that day too, she feels she might go crazy from all the noise and crowds of people.

Nes sighs and turns to the staff room, her neck cracking as she slowly moves her head left and right. Weariness takes over as she walks to the door, even though she pushed the handle to open it.

She groans when she tries it again.

It must be locked.

And she has no keys. And her bloody phone is in one of her jacket pockets.

She leans in, hoping Dan hasn't left yet. The voice she hears isn't Dan's, though.

"You know you're causing me much trouble, boy." Yes, it's Michael's. But what does that douchebag want from Dan again? God, people can be so snippy sometimes.

"Maybe I should just. . . let you find another job, huh?"

"I'm sorry, please, don't fire me, I can do better," Dan replies and she can hear fear in his voice. "Please, I need this job-"

"I know." Nessa can easily imagine the smile playing on his lips as he said that.

She feels sick, she wants to stop this conversation but her limbs are frozen. She should've done something by now, yell, kick the door at least, but for some twisted reason all she's capable of doing in that moment is to listen to their talk. And remain silent. And stagnant.

"Please, give me another chance and I'll prove it to you that I deserve this job-"

"You don't deserve anything," the voice cuts him off and Nessa wants to punch the owner of it.

She tries the handle once again.

"You're a lying piece of shit! You think I didn't see you steal from the cashier?" he asks and Nes pales. But no, not Dan, he wouldn't do such thing. It's irrational.

"I didn't take a cent," Dan answers, his voice seemingly calm.

"Oh, you say?" Michael's words seep with doubt and sarcasm. "I'm sure I'd be able to catch you pocketing money."

"I didn't!" Dan's voice raises a little but he composes himself quickly. He then sounds confused, but not angry. He couldn't have stolen anything. "It must be some misunderstanding, I hadn't taken anything-"

As she hears it, it hits her as hard as the person on the other side of the door. Her heart breaks in two when a smack, followed closely by a groan comes from behind the door.

"Shut up!" their boss yells and she squeals at the abruptness of it. A thought that he must be unaware of her presence passes through her mind as Michael goes on, "If you think I'll be tolerating your behaviour and the way you speak to me, you're fucking wrong! Go find somewhere else to work if you don't like it here!"

For a moment or two there's only silence combined with heavy breathing coming from the other room. Nes gulps heavily, feeling rooted to place. Shock. She must be in shock, otherwise she would have done something ages ago.

"I'm sorry. . ." Dan whispers. He could have voiced her thoughts as well.

"Don't fucking apologise, but once in your lifetime prove you're worth of something! Scumbag," he mutters and the back door opens and closes.

He's gone.

Vanessa listens attentively but no sound comes. Then, someone takes a shuddering breath and, it's Dan, and, oh God, she realises her feet are wobbly and her hands are shaking. She's just done nothing. Done fucking nothing when her friend was being unreasonably accused of stealing.

She tries in vain for her voice to be light, but it comes out half-hearted, if anything,

"Dan, I think you closed me in the bar," she exclaims and his breath hitches. Probably forgot about her standing there. She couldn't really blame him.

"Let me in, I don't want to sleep in here, it's quite creepy," she says what first comes into her mind. And nothing good has planted in her brain, yet. Maybe she'll know what to say. There's still few seconds before she sees Dan.

"Yeah, just give me a second." Dan shuffles his feet toward the door but the sound of his footsteps stop just by the door. She can tell from the light coming from under the door.

"I- I heard your quarrel with Michael, Dan," she mumbles, looking down. Damn, words and planning them isn't her strong side.

The doors open.

"Dan, I'm so sorry-"

"It's 'kay," he says and the boy smiles weakly. He smiles!

God, she's so pathetic.

"I don't know why he'd suspect you, but we'll prove he's wrong," she promises as she steps into the staff room and squeezes his arm for reassurance.

Dan nods, looking down. There's a redness on his left cheek. And, she feels sick, and she can see at least two fingers imprinted on the brunet's skin. It's definitely going to turn into a bruise.

"I should have done something, but I didn't know what, and then-" she rushes to explain as she watches the damage brought by Michael and her lack of action. She wants to say more, to clarify in thousands of words that it was panic which withheld her from breathing alone. However, she cannot say another word.

"It's alright, Nessie," Dan repeats, voice smaller and quieter than before and she fights the tears that threaten to fall.

"Oh Dan. . ." her voice breaks as she reaches out to touch the bruise but even at such a move, Dan flinches. She brings her hand back right away.

"Does it happen often?" Dan looks away and she's ready to assure him he doesn't need to answer her.

"It's not that bad," is his reply and she can't stop herself from commenting.

The words just slip from her tongue, as if Michael's departure was a key opening some door, "It's already red, it's gonna turn blue soon."

Dan's head snaps in her direction, she can even hear his bones crack as he does it too quickly. Panic reflects in his eyes as he quickly crosses the room and stops to stand in front of a mirror that some of the old workers had hung in the stuff room.

"Oh God," he whispers and for the second time that evening he voices her own thoughts.

"No, no, no," he repeats silently, staring at himself in the glass.

Nes steps toward him. Nearly touches him again, but thinks better of it. She doesn't think he'd want pity. If she were him, she definitely wouldn't.

"Does anyone know about this?" she asks softly and Dan's eyes meet hers in the mirror.

"Please, don't tell anyone," he chokes out.

"I won't. I won't, Dan," she promises. "But you could," she proposes shyly, glancing down and up. "It's a lot and you don't need to be alone with this."

She doesn't get a reply. Dan's silent. He seems to be contemplating, and maybe he's thinking about her offer, it would do him good, have somebody he could talk to about it-

"I can't go there wearing this," he mumbles, as if numbed. "He can't see me like this."

Nes scrutinizes the red bruise. It's not that big, she should even have some of her green corrector in her bag. It should do. For a while.

"I think you could mask it," she says at last, feeling bad for what she's going to offer but wanting to help Dan, if just a little. Dan looks at her, brows scrunched, as he waits for her to go on. "I mean, _I_ could mask it. With make-up. I could paint it."

Dan blinks but his forehead smoothens out, "No, it's okay, you really don't need to-"

"It's only temporary, Dan. You don't need to do it forever. You can just tell him when you're ready," she mumbles. "Anyway, you'll probably need to apply it again because it'll fade," she adds, observing the brunet from under her lashes.

He's staring into the mirror again, as if lost, eyes nearly transfixed on the red mark.

"I- if it's not too much. . ."

"It isn't, believe me," and adds _'I owe you so much more'_ in her mind.

"Thank you so much, Nes. I- thank you so much," he says, something between a grimace and a smile written on his face, like he couldn't decide which expression fit him better.

And Vanessa smiles back. It makes the situation more scary, what she's going to take part in in a matter of seconds.

"And now let me show you the biggest secrets girls keep from the world!" she jokes, but the sound feels wrong as it tumbles from her lips.

 _. . : : torn pagebreak : : . ._

The ride in the lift ends almost too quickly. Before Dan can gather his thoughts and think of a good reason, explanation as to why Phil heard no word from him in the last two weeks, there's a loud _ding!_ and Dan is out the door. The metallic door closes behind him but Dan still makes a desperate turn around on his heels as though it could summon the moving box back to him. Exhaling, he pulls out his phone to read the message once again,

 _Come in, the door's opened :)_

 _Phil_

Maybe Phil doesn't hate him, then. But, what can he, the lying freak and skunk he is, know? Michael knows, Michael knows the truth about his life, about the reason he tidies up every detail of his life underneath a thick rug. He _knows_ and what's good has come out of it for Dan and Nat; plain misery and only more problems.

It's like the universe has turned its back to him and his little sister.

As for himself, he doesn't disagree nor complain. Dan knows he deserves pain and deserves all the _nicknames_ he receives from Michael, but Natalie? A fifteen year-old, his baby sister, a girl so innocent and so not at fault? She had done nothing to be living such low life. And it's all because of him, because of-

"Dan!"

His body protests and flinches as a pair of strong, familiar arms encircle him, hugging him close. The smell of Phil's shampoo is good, Dan defines it with _'home'_ and _'safety'_. A choked sound leaves his mouth as he wonders how much more time he has before the lies unfurl and everything goes to hell.

He only hopes Nat won't be there to watch his fall.

"I'm glad you came," speaks Phil and only now Dan realises he hasn't moved as much. Slowly and awkwardly, he pats the black-haired's boy on the back, all the while saying nothing. He doesn't trust his own voice to do so.

Phil pulls back after what feels like a brief second, but could have been ten minutes. Dan can't tell anyway.

The boy in front of him raises an eyebrow, probably lack of the usual banter and sassiness a weird behavior, but other than that, he doesn't ask. Dan notices a small wrinkle form on his forehead just as he turns around to lead him into the flat.

"I've made some food, if you don't mind," he says and Dan comes to a halt as he reaches the lounge.

The blinds are pulled, and only one window is opened, letting in soon-to-be-summer air and causing the translucent curtains to flutter slightly in the late night breeze. There's a good amount of blankets lying on the sofa, there's a distant thought that Phil must have robbed a whole Ikea, but his usual sass falters upon noticing candles on the coffee table, an opened laptop, two glasses and some delicious food.

"Phil. . .", he speaks, for the first time since he cameand the word gets caught in his throat, as though it's not ready to leave it yet. Phil smiles warmly at him, and Dan notices that this worried wrinkle hasn't left his face, but deepened. The black-haired takes several steps and stops within an arm reach of Dan. He takes his hand in his, leading the way. Probably to make sure Dan actually follows this time.

Phil sits him down on the sofa, barely brushing his lips against his forehead as he takes a seat beside him.

"I didn't know this was. . .", he stammers out as he regains some of his composure.

"A date?", Phil offers, his lips turned upwards in that sweet smile of his. Dan merely nods.

"You could have just told me," he points out. "I'd dress nicely at least."

"But you look gorgeous," Phil murmurs and Dan bits on his bottom lip.

 _God, how is it possible to sound so sexy?_

"Normally, I would definitely agree with you, but given the circumstances and that I'm dressed in my work clothes, which probably smell of alcohol, I wouldn't say I look my best right now," he mumbles, looking down at his hands.

A beast. It's how he feels. A beast trapped with a beauty, dangerous to anyone who comes too close. He's done that before, hurt people he loved, cared about. Why this time was about to be any different?

Phil grimaces, probably at the absurdity and reality behind Dan's words but his smile doesn't leave his face. So does the wrinkle on his forehead.

"I'm just trying to be romantic, Daniel."

"Well, don't, because we're not in a cliché movie," he retorts, glancing at the other who laughs soundly.

"What I tried to say was that you look good to me, no matter if you wear Prada or your working clothes," he finishes and Dan's cheeks blossom red.

"You look good anytime," he says to Phil who grins at him.

Only now he realises he's been holding the black case the whole time. He gives it to Phil.

"What's that?" Phil asks, eyeing the file.

Dan shrugs, "Dunno, I didn't look. Your pal left it at the bar," he explained.

Phil eyeballs the case file for a brief moment like he wants it to unravel all the secrets. Dan shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Surely Phil doesn't have work to do, he wouldn't invite Dan over then, right?

"Work can wait," Phil decides at last and tosses the file on the closest clean surface. Dan's grateful. "Let's go and see if that food doesn't kill you," he offers, smiling at Dan with that big smile of his and that tongue thing.

 _. . : : torn pagebreak : : . ._

The pasta turns out to be wonderful (Dan is never complaining about pasta again) and after they finish eating (with Phil suggesting a food fight), Phil puts on Big Hero Six. They're wrapped in blankets. The lights are out. Candles cast shadows on the walls and though Dan would be freaking out by now if he were on his own, with Phil beside he feels safe.

Everything with Phil feels better.

Dan wonders how he managed to have lived for so long without this bright, warm person in his life. Before, Dan's days were all the same. The same fight for survival he has to face each day, the same constant search for a better life for Nat.

Sometimes there is this thought, this question. What would he do if there was no Natalie he had to look after, had to protect, feed, lecture, and yell at so she'd get to her books? Would he still be fighting? Or would he just. . . give up, the weight of living too heavy on his shoulders?

It's what he pushes out of his mind with all of his strength. Because he cannot give up. He cannot. For Natalie, for this little kid that knows how to talk her way out of a stressful situation, who knows how not to look her age, who can see right through him.

Nat has always been his top priority and although it was never going to change, Dan has felt he was missing something important right from the start of their ' _new life'_. He couldn't help the longing that gnawed at his heart, up until Phil showed up. It was then he realised what he was missing for this whole time.

Phil.

A person so special, who wouldn't think differently of him, who would care about him. He missed the safety and wanted to be able to look into someone's eyes and see the love reflected in there. He wanted love. But more, he wanted to be loved. A mutual feeling.

His heart wished to have another to rely on, to be able to trust someone without contemplating their intentions. Someone with no blade hidden and ready to strike, who would love him. Someone like Phil.

He only wanted to be happy.

And finally he is.

"Phil?" he asks sometime when they're halfway through the movie.

The black-haired turns his head at him, eyes cautious and waiting.

"Do you need another blanket?", he asks and Dan blinks at first, then laughs at how stupid but so Phil-like the question is.

"No, you spoon, if you get me another blanket, you may as well strangle me first." Phil snorts, saying nothing. Dan bites on his bottom lip, his gaze trailing to the nearly burnt out candles resting a safe distance from the laptop and any wires.

"It's just. . . This is nice, like really nice. What you did," he says shyly. "I appreciate it, Phil."

Phil smiles wider and turns his head to the laptop, to the movie.

"I'm glad you do," he confesses softly.

They're at the ending of the movie when the Baymax, Hiro and others become nothing more than blurs to Dan.

And he scoots closer.

Dan repeats to himself he's just seeking some warmth and trying to find a comfortable position. That it's not to feel Phil's body pressed closer to his, to be engulfed in his close proximity, to be able to take a breath and discern the smell as Phil's shampoo or aftershave. Five more minutes pass and Dan totally gives in, scooting over and burying his face in Phil's lap. Eyes drooping, he hears Phil chuckle quietly and before his tired brain gives in to the darkness, he registers two things.

First, is that soon Phil's hand somehow finds its way to run through his fringe again and again, and to his own surprise, it doesn't annoy or disturb him, even though when Nes tried doing it once, he put up such a fuss that half of the Raspberry Bar thought someone was being murdered. No, instead of finding it annoying, it's comfort and safety he feels and slowly, he feels his body relax. All worries that normally weigh him down fade away.

His eyelids shut, a sigh of relief comes past his lips and when he instinctively leans closer into the touch, a second realisation strikes him.

Dan Howell, a runaway with nearly two years of hiding and lying, a person who never did friends so the parting didn't hurt too much, is in as deep as the Mariana Trench reaches.

Actually, he thinks he may set a new world record.

* * *

 ** _Angst and fluff in one chapter, what do you think? Personally I love mixing the genres, seems more reliable to me that way._**

 ** _Comment and let me know your thoughts! I'm curious as always to see what your opinion on the story is. Don't forget to subscribe, kudo and leave a comment. I love reading your thoughts a lot :D_**

 ** _Knock on my Tumblr and say hi: superasia8_**


	5. Chapter 5

**_Big merci to caustichowell from Tumblr who betaed the first five chapters :)_**

 ** _I've had this written and done since like forever and I thought I've posted it already and then I realised I haven't xD and a week ago my internet died and I even tried my phone's connection but nothing was working and only today have I managed to bring it back. Call me a miracle worker :P Enjoy :)_**

* * *

 _"T_ _he night we met_ _I knew I needed you so_

 _and if I had the chance_ _,_ _I'll never let you go_

 _and if you say you love me_ _,_ _I'll make you so proud of me_

 _we'll make them_ _turn their heads_

 _in every place_ _we_ _go_

 _so won't you be_

 _(be my, be my baby)_

 _be my little baby_

 _(my one and only)_

 _say you be my darling_

 _(be my, be my baby)_

 _be my baby now"_

 _[The Bates, Be my Baby]_

* * *

His eyelids flutter slowly and azure pupils come into focus. Phil yawns and stretches lazily, almost sure to hit Dan in the nose. As he extends his arms, he doesn't. Eyebrows shoot up as he finds the place next to him empty. The sofa is still warm so wherever Dan is, he must be nearby.

Phil looks around the blurred world, reaches for the table more with instinct than certainty, but, yes, he finds his glasses there and smiles, as he puts them on.

He gets up off the sofa in search for the brunet.

He crosses the lounge, then walks through the hall. The bathroom door is slightly open ajar and so he stops there. Phil can hear Dan muttering to himself.

"Dan, you're not sleeptalking, are you?" he jokes but he can swear he hears _'Shit'_ from the inside.

He reaches for the handle.

"Don't come in! I'm naked!" Dan exclaims in what Phil guesses must be a threatening tone. He stifles a laugh.

"I don't believe you!" he replies, pushing away the image of a naked Dan. "Anyway, do you want coffee or tea for breakfast?"

The reply is instant,

"Coffee is perfect, thank you. I'll come to you in a few, just don't come in," he pleads. His concern grows.

"Everything alright?" he ensures, hand on the handle, torn between leaving and going. He doesn't breathe and Dan doesn't answer right away.

"Yeah, fine..." Phil doubts it, anxiety rolls in his stomach. "I just don't want my punk look to suffer in the morning light."

"Ah, alright, I'll be in the kitchen!" he informs.

No reply. Phil turns to leave.

He doesn't buy the explanation.

He's not going to pretend he hasn't noticed. Something is very wrong with Dan, but what, Phil can't figure it out. But he knew. From the moment he saw Dan standing in front of his doors. Unsure, hunched, clutching that black case file like an armor.

It showed. In his unfocused eyes, in that flinch when Phil hugged him. Like Dan was scared. Like he was actually scared of his touch.

Phil sighed. He had to talk with Dan about this, but... he looked so worn and so on the edge. He didn't want to mess it up, only wanted to help and see Dan smile again.

 _. . : : torn pagebreak : : . ._

A quiet, "Hey," comes from his left and Phil glances at Dan as he makes the coffee.

"Hi," he says, pretending not to be just studying him for any unordinary behavior. But Dan looks the same as yesterday.

He's not really sure if it means anything good.

"Sorry for falling asleep so fast last night," Dan says, blushing a little and Phil grins. Dan cuddled into him like Phil was his lion mother or at least a bird mother. Like he was looking for safety.

The last comparison causes his smile to crumble a little.

The way Dan's fists curled in his shirt when Phil moved a little, like he thought Phil was going somewhere, like he feared Phil may go somewhere. And the words. Muttered words from a person who was practically asleep. The most true words one could hear.

 _'Don't leave.'_

It does break Phil's heart that Dan takes it into consideration but Phil quickly comes back from his thoughts. No need to think about it too much, he tells himself.

"I think you must have mistaken me with a blanket at some point," he says, laughing as Dan goes red in the face.

"Oh God," he mumbles, face buried in his hands.

Phil giggles. "I don't mind it. It was kinda cute," he explains and Dan groans.

"Just about how many times have I done something embarrassing when you were nearby?" he asks as the coffeemaker clicks, the brew ready.

"Hmm, let me think," Phil ponders while pouring them coffee. "Do you want me to count that time when you fell into the fountain, too? 'Cause that would be one too many."

Dan smacks his head against the table, "I'm never talking to you again, Phil."

Phil laughs and hands him the coffee when Dan finally looks up.

"We wouldn't be here, though, if not for that fountain," he points out. His and Dan's fingers touch briefly and Phil wonders how the heck people can generate electricity.

Dan stares at the mug.

"True," he mutters, thoughtful as he takes a sip of his coffee.

Phil looks down at his own coffee.

"It's good though, right?" he asks, casting Dan a momentary glance. "That we are here?"

Dan doesn't reply and Phil regrets his decision. Why does he always have to say the wrong thing? He shouldn't have asked him that, the answer should be obvious, he shouldn't doubt Dan's feelings, he shouldn't think-

Kiss.

That's the answer he gets.

Dan kisses him, albeit still shyly, but he kisses him slowly, taking his time. Phil devours every second of it, the freaking lip ring, Dan's face, the shape of his lips on his and how it's the only thing he wants in his life.

Dan pulls away, too soon for Phil's taste. There's a small blush on his cheeks.

"Yeah, umm, I'm not the best with speeches," he mumbles and Phil laughs.

Phil gets up off his chair and takes Dan's confused face in his hands, and kisses him again.

Happy, at peace. In Heaven. At cloud nine.

There's no way to describe the feeling of finally having something that's as essential as breathing. No freaking way. But that's what Dan has grown into being for Phil. His air.

"God, you're marvellous," he whispers as he pulls away from Dan. The brunet casts his eyes down.

"You're more amazing than me," he mumbles. Phil kisses him once more.

"Okay, _fanboy_ ," he says jokingly and pulls away, even though he feels invisible lines drawing him close again. "Eat up," he says, pushing a plate with a piece of toast in Dan's direction.

Dan rolls his eyes muttering, "Yes, mum." Phil grins.

"I'll be back in a second," he tells him, leaving the room.

He enters the lounge. The blankets are scattered on the sofa and on the ground, candles burnt out. The place needs a little tidying up. Phil crosses the room but he can't see the file anywhere. He squats near the coffee table and leans down, peeking under the sofa, under the table. It's nowhere.

Phil sighs in frustration. What if it was something important?

He scouts the room once again. The bookcase, TV, the coffee table, the sofa, the blankets...

 _The blankets!_

Phil crouches down and rakes through the fluffy materials. As he straightens one, he feels something is entangled and he straightens the blanket. The black case file falls out.

"Got ya," he mutters to himself as he picks it up.

He opens it and his eyebrows furrow.

 _. . : : torn pagebreak : : . ._

"Wha- you mean it's empty?" Dan asks, mouth stuffed with the toast.

"There's just nothing inside," he explains calmly, but his mind is whirling. He paces the room a few times, coming to a stop. "Are you sure you didn't drop the papers?"

Dan swallows the food and clears his throat. "Impossible, I would've known."

Phil bits on his lip, "Okay, let's assume you didn't. Anyway, who gave you the file? I might ring them, maybe they forgot about papers."

Dan blushes, "Actually, I didn't get his name."

He stops and plops down on the seat beside Dan, defeated. A groan leaves his mouth as he buries his hands in his face. There's a hand squeezing his shoulder.

"Sorry, I should have, but they left so quickly..."

"It's okay," he says and sits upright to face the brunet. "They should have called me first."

Dan blinks, "He didn't? I- he said you told him to leave it at the bar."

Now it's Phil's turn to blink. He has only talked with PJ and that was a few days ago. But he definitely didn't tell anyone to leave something at Raspberry Bar. No one really knows about him and Dan. Even PJ and Chris live in the dark.

Dan laughs all of a sudden.

"You've got a mystery to solve now, Mr Pherlock."

Phil stares at him, "Did you just-"

"Yes," says Dan, grinning and chuckling. "Oh God, yes, I did."

 _. . : : torn pagebreak : : . ._

He takes the stairs two at a time. Dan has never really believed that the feeling of the butterflies was something more than a telling. But every time he looks at Phil, or they kiss, or accidentally brush their knees when they sit close, he feels just that. Happiness and excitement that he knows Phil. God knows what would have Dan been like now if that walking sunshine hasn't set his feet in Raspberry Bar.

A selfless dick, swimming in a pool of money. That's what he thought about Phil. He couldn't help putting him in a category that day. He shouldn't have, Dan has grown to understand, but that doesn't delete the fact that he has done what he despises most.

His feet freeze over the last few steps and he tiptoes the rest of the way. A prayer is on constant repeat in his mind. _'Please, let Uncle John not be around'._

It seems to be working because he gets to their door before the man has time to open his. Dan sneaks inside quietly, carefully shutting the door.

"How was the date?" Nat asks, perched on the sofa like a cat, a fiction book in her hands.

Dan rolls his eyes as he takes off his jacket, "It wasn't a date."

The girl glances at him, pulling her nose out of the book just a little.

"Yeah. Right. So how was it? The not date?" she asks, ignorance literally oozing from her pores.

How has Dan raised this girl... She was once small, so small. She was a kid. She's still one, but with an enormous baggage that no kid her age should have.

Nat drops the book and turns to him, "Sooo?"

"Nice, it was nice," he replies vaguely, and makes a beeline for the kitchen.

"Did you kiss? Did you hold hands?" her slightly squeaky, playful voice follows him. Dan rolls his eyes. "Daaan, you cannot not tell me! I'm your sister!"

"And that's exactly why I shouldn't," he mutters.

"I've heard that, don't think I didn't!"

He rolls his eyes but chuckles. Everything is okay, kinda okay.

"You making lunch, Danny?" comes from behind him and he jumps. The vegetables drop to the ground, too.

"Don't scare me like that," he says, heart pounding as he picks up the tomatoes from the ground. Nat stares down at him with that puzzled look that say _'I can smell something bad'._

"You 'kay, Danny?"

He doesn't respond; he can't. How can he explain to his little sister that her big brother couldn't protect himself from his boss? He needs to man up. If anything, for her.

"Can you chop these up for me, please?" he asks instead.

 _. . : : torn pagebreak : : . ._

Phil gets quite impatient. PJ is running late by twenty minutes and he hasn't picked up the few calls Phil has made. The barista eyeballs him like it's the biggest crime in the world to sit alone at a table for two. Phil has only been here for around half an hour. Or more.

Five minutes later PJ enters the café, just when Phil starts considering leaving.

"Hey. Sorry for being late," he says, plops down. "Had to make sure I didn't have Chris on my tail."

"Dude, I feel like in a really bad action movie where the main character gets caught at the same beginning."

PJ pouts, "My _'be invisible'_ abilities are good, thank you." Phil laughs. "We should order, that barista looks like he wants to throw a knife at you," he points out and Phil glances in that direction. The man truly looks like he wants nothing in world but murder him.

"Get me an espresso, I'm dying," PJ pleads, handing him the money. Phil frowns.

"He's gonna kill me, Peej," he remarks, his friend snorts.

"Appear friendly, maybe he won't torture you for long," is his advice and Phil rolls his eyes.

He stands up from their table and waits in the queue, looking anywhere but at the barista. When it's his turn, Phil smiles politely, but the man scowls. He walks back to PJ as fast as he can with coffees and the café being crowded and really little space between tables.

He'd never order when a barista was seemingly killing him in his mind, but Peej looked bad; hair tousled, heavy bags under his eyes.

"Thank god," mutters PJ and he drinks almost half of the espresso in one gulp.

Phil raises his brows, "Have you been sleeping at all?"

"In the past few days, you ask? No," he says shortly and sips his coffee, this time not half of the cup.

"So," Phil starts as he leans forward, holding the mug in his hands. He looks down and up, at PJ, "A wedding?"

PJ observes him for a moment, "Not exactly. First is the proposal, then the wedding." Phil is about to retort, but his friend carries on, "I've got the ring, I've even found this one restaurant that is just perfect, but I have no idea how to really say this," he confesses, gaze focused on his cup as he taps the side with his finger.

"I wish I knew he says 'yes'. And what if I'm rushing with things a bit too quickly? Maybe he wants to wait, or, or doesn't want to be with me at all? How do I know, Phil? How do I tell if this has a purpose, if it's gonna work out?" he asks, looking at him, expecting a perfect answer.

He wants to be sure, Phil realises, he wants to be sure just like Phil does. That _'we, us, our'_ exists.

Phil purses his lips, "Well, you don't," he says, displaying his hands in helplessness at how he can't really comfort his friend. "But from what I can see," he begins when PJ's shoulders sink in defeat, "I bet that Chris cares about you and loves you. And if he says _'no'_ , then it doesn't have to mean he doesn't love you. Maybe he's not ready to take your relationship a step further, maybe you both should have one long heart to heart. But what I know is that, he'll say _'yes'_. Eventually."

"How can you know that?" PJ mumbles sadly. Phil doesn't blame him.

Loving someone doesn't mean not having doubts. Rejection always hurts, even if from a stranger. No exceptions. And if one has grown deeper bonds and relation with another, the fear of the rejection can only grow.

"You know Chris and so do I. He wouldn't be playing with anybody. He's not like that," he explains.

Peej stares at his espresso, lost in thoughts as he munches on his lip.

"I don't want to lose him," he whispers, barely loud enough for Phil to hear.

Phil smiles slightly, "I know. But you won't so there's no reason to stress out about it all day and night."

PJ looks up from his coffee. Smiles a little, "Yeah, you're most probably right."

"And that's the spirit I like!" he says, grinning.

The bell door rings, announcing a new customer. The barista is barely keeping himself from throwing the hot coffee makers at their heads.

"Let's get some fresh air," Phil suggests, glancing anxiously at the guy.

 _. . : : torn pagebreak : : . ._

"That's just awesome! I wouldn't think you'd like to go for such a romantic thing," Phil comments after PJ finishes talking about his plans for how to propose.

"It must be special."

"Yeah, but please, please, never in that café! The guy would kill you with his laser eyes," Phil says and they both burst out laughing in a matter of second.

"Oh God, no, never that café," he agrees as they sit down on a bench in a park where he and Dan had their first session.

The leaves are green and when Phil inhales, he can smell the upcoming summer; a promise of storms and unbearable heat waves. He wonders how their _deal_ will end. Somewhere along the road, the meaning of the word has blurred, the lines of how they were supposed not to pressure it to be - forgotten. The truth is Phil can't really imagine a different ending than them being together. Sometimes he regrets one of them has thought about naming it like that.

 _Deal_. He still remembers it. Their first kiss. And how naturally, they drew to each other, how there is a force causing that Phil often doesn't even consider no _'we, us our'_. And though he has doubts and insecurities and fears, he wants them to stop clouding his mind. He wants to look clearly and he wants to see how his and Dan's futures combine and create a shared future. He wants just that.

"How is it going for you, Phil? How's that session going?" PJ asks, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Umm, it's good," he begins. He laughs once, "I've done a trial session and Dan's done great. Like he's got it in his blood, a natural talent, that is."

"Still something bothers you," PJ hums, watching pedestrians, not really focusing on anyone.

"Uh oh," he stammers. Sometimes he forgets how long they know each other and how they both can easily read just from an expression if it's dandy or not.

"There's a thing," he starts, but stops, grimacing at where he should start. He doesn't know. PJ doesn't push and Phil thanks heaven for that.

"We- okay, so this is complicated," he says, looking in Peej's direction. Green eyes cross with his azure ones. "Like, very complicated. A Rubik's cube in the hands of a seal, kind of." PJ blinks, forehead wrinkled, observing him, but says nothing.

"We're... we're together, but not like, together," PJ opens his mouth and Phil rushes in, "It's complicated, like I said. It's just that- it's just that we decided to give ourselves time to figure us out, but I'm just..." he finishes, letting out a long sigh.

"Scared he'll say _'no'_?" PJ fills in for him. Phil shakes his head.

"No, it's not this, it's-" he pauses, lips turning into a tight line. "I think he's hiding something."

PJ raises his brow at him suggestively, "Aren't we all?"

"I- right, but- It's just so transparent there's something on his mind. And it looks like it's eating him alive. I- I wish I could do something, but what can I do? Ask him just like that?"

"And why not?" PJ challenges. "What if he's waiting for you to ask him about it? You never know until you try. Maybe he's waiting for you to push him and ask questions, show you see and care?"

Phil sighs. He doesn't know, he has no idea.

"We all have secrets, Phil. But we don't tell people about them the same way we share bedtime stories."

* * *

 ** _I think this chapter gives you some fluff but there's also that twinge of reality I love so much to put into stories. I hope you enjoyed it and I'm sorry if the updates don't come frequently. I'm in a senior year and there's lots of work and top it up with some anxiety, stress and sometimes just being in the state of 'please, let me have a moment for myself'. I hope you understand :)_**

 ** _If you liked this, please leave a nice (or rude, you've got the power and rule your hands) comment, kudo and don't forget to subcribe! :D_**

 ** _Knock on my Tumblr and say hi: superasia8_**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi peps! It's been a year since I updated this, I know, but life happened. We lost someone in our family and then I had to tackle my finals and day after taking my last exam, I got a job! All in all, I didn't have much time so, fun fact, some of the chapters were born on my way to and from work :D**

 **Right now I've got five chapters written and edited and I will be posting them once two weeks or so. So, watch out for new content :)**

 **I'd like to thank my beta botanistlester from Tumblr. She polished this piece, fixed all the grammar mistakes and pointed out when something was just not working. I owe her a lot. Thank you for your help! 3**

* * *

 _The road to paradise is easy to pass_

 _And you'll never see the light if you're moving too fast_

 _Ooh I'm so caught up hunting happiness_

 _I move so quickly that it can't catch me_

 _[W. Darling - Hunting Happiness]_

Dogs let out occasional barks, as if they're competing against each other about which gets to say the last word. Or a bark. A soft, barely audible song of crickets comes from the outside. Dan doesn't have the slightest idea of where the sound might be coming from. Do they even have a park somewhere nearby? He didn't see or hadn't been in one, for sure.

He turns on the black sofa. Nat is sleeping on the one and only bed they possess - Dan can hear her slow breathing. The girl was out the second her head touched the pillow. Dan, however, can't make his mind turn to the land of oblivion. He just doesn't know how to pull the switch and turn off his consciousness. And the reason behind it isn't because the sofa gives his body an unpleasant massage with its springs that Dan can feel all too well. Dan can't fall asleep because it's too hot and too cold at the same time under the thin grey blanket.

Dan kicks the material off of himself and lets out a quiet sigh.

If only he could close his eyes without these anxious thoughts. He would kill for the certainty to fall asleep after ten or fifteen minutes as people usually do. But no, instead he's wide awake and it's three in the morning. Three more hours before he has to wake up - but how can one name the action of having lied in bed for six hours without having as much as a wink of sleep?

It's Sunday, or rather Monday, much too early and Dan is not asleep.

He pulls himself up and sets his feet on the ground. The coldness of the wooden floor against his bare feet causes a shiver to run through his body. Staring down, he breathes out as he rubs his eyes. Fatigue is what he feels often these days. It's what he feels too often. Dan doesn't want it at all.

He doesn't want the nightmares either, but he gets them anyway.

He gets both things no matter what he tries to do about it.

An idea to tell Phil crosses his mind once in awhile. The reaction which Dan would receive does as well. He can't decide if it's stupid, or if it's the only right thing to do. He thinks of how such a conversation with Phil would go. Dan often imagines the reaction, the shock which would be visibly painted on Phil's face. There's no thought of where he should start his story, though.

It's always easier to imagine the hatred on Phil's face than what Dan would tell him about, what part of his life would be revealed first.

In the nightmares, Dan's scared. Frightened. He's a little kid again, merely an eleven year old boy who finds his mother dead on the kitchen floor. There's his father, too. Dan never finds out what the man wants to say to him. He always runs away before there's even a chance for that to happen.

There's Natalie, too. She's barely an eleven year-old girl. Two little pigtails decorate either side of her head and Dan tells her she can't wear her hair like that because it makes her look too young. She puts up a fight - always did since that day and to the present - but she nods and, trusting that her big brother knows what he's doing, lets Dan untie her hair. And they run, they literally open the goddamn window and Dan jumps from their room on the first floor. His knees hurt a little as they hit the ground but he smiles at his sister and catches her as she follows in his steps and with closed eyes and a small squeak, jumps down into his arms.

They don't make it safely to the bridge they hid under for the first night away from home.

In the world built by his own imagination, their father waits for them on the street just when Dan thinks they're too far to be caught, just when Dan thinks they're safe.

Each dream is no different. He fucks it up. Dan waits one day too long and the Big Man realises Dan wants to escape. The man finds their packed bags, he finds the money Dan has been saving aside for them and, oh God, does he go mental.

Every night, Phil finds out. And it's as bad as when their father finds them.

In the nightmares- in Dan's fucking nightmares, everything goes as bad as it can. In his nightmares, there's no room for explanation, no time to tell the whole story.

His nightmares is his past and his future. The two things Dan fears most.

 _. . : : torn pagebreak : : . ._

"Did hell spit you out?" Kevin asks and Dan wants to laugh it off, but all he manages is a crooked smile.

"Hey to you, too," Dan says as he stands in the hallway, in front of his old roommate. "It grew tired of me, I think," he answers, shifting nervously under the observant gaze, though trying hard not to.

Kevin chuckles, "Long time, no see, bro."

He steps aside and Dan smiles weakly as he passes his friend and gets a pat on his shoulder.

"You should come by more often."

"Sorry, I lost contact with the world for a while," he admits and Kevin shakes his head slightly.

"More like lost in love, huh?"

Dan coughs, "Yeah, kind of. Lots has happened lately."

His friend eyes him before he grins and ruffles Dan's hair at which Dan screams _'hey!'._

"Come in, kiddo, let's talk about it," Kevin offers and invites Dan inside as he himself locks the door.

Dan comes to a stop in the doorframe of the lounge, though. Confounded, he stares at the girl in the center of the room. She moves slowly along the shelves - is she. . . dancing? Yes, she has headphones plugged in her ears and she's humming to the tune.

Dan hears footsteps behind him. He stares at Kevin who's rubbing the nape of his neck as a slight blush rises on his cheeks.

"Meet Stephanie," he introduces the dancing girl and Dan blinks, looking at her again. "Steph?" he calls out, but the girl continues to rock her hips to the music.

Oh God. Dan has totally forgot. Stephanie. The co-worker from the café who was supposed to move in with Kevin.

"Steph!"

The girl jumps at the shout and turns around, her big eyes widening at the sight of a newcomer. Pausing the song, she quickly pulls out the headphones. Only now Dan notices the cardboard boxes on the floor and the poster in her hands that she must have been trying to hang onto the wall.

"This is Dan, my friend," Kevin says, motioning at him and Dan waves his hand awkwardly, saying _'hi'_. "And this is Steph, my roommate."

The girl flushes, probably realising that she's been caught dancing. She moves forward, smiling widely and rolling her eyes.

"Steph," she says as she shakes his hand lightly. Her hair is short, barely reaches her shoulders. She's blonde, like Kevin, but much more light-coloured than the warm sandy shade his friend owns - hers is much colder. That's the first thing Dan thinks of, at least.

"Dan. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too." Her dark eyes flick between the two of them. They rest on Kevin in the end. "I tried, but I can't reach it," she complains, handing Kev the poster with a sheepish expression. "Could you?"

"Sure, no problem," Kevin agrees and when Dan glances at his friend, he has to bite on his bottom lip so he doesn't laugh.

She beams, "Thanks, you're the best." Her phone rings then and as she pulls it out, her forehead wrinkles. "Oh crap," she mutters. "I gotta go, meeting with my friend," she explains to Kevin who just nods. His eyes don't leave Stephanie.

Dan looks down, smiling.

"It was nice to see you, Dan." She nods in his direction, sending him a kind smile. "You should come to the café one day. We serve the best cappuccino and muffins," she says and Dan smiles back at her, promising he will.

Her gaze shifts to Kevin's again, "I'll be back in an hour or two," she tells and walks to the door. "Oh, and I bought that cookies you like! Upper shelf," she shouts before she closes the door after her.

Dan clears his throat and Kevin turns to him, flushed like heck.

"That was-"

His friends breaks in, commanding, "Don't you dare, Dan, just- don't say anything," as he sets the poster on one black sofa.

Dan laughs.

"I just wanted to say it was cute," he explains as they sit down on the other black sofa but Kevin raises an eyebrow. Dan lifts his hands up, chuckling. "Okay. Honestly?" He blows out a breath as he says, "Dude, you're totally screwed."

Kevin only lets out a sigh as he slumps in his seat. Dan must admit he's impressed by how tidy the sofa is, with no parts of Kevin's wardrobe lying around, but he doesn't comment on it. Teasing about it would be like a blow below the middle.

"Steph has moved in," Kevin mumbles as if Dan hasn't noticed yet. "A week ago. She has some things to unpack, still."

Dan nods, silently processing the news. He sits more comfortably on the sofa, raising his legs to his chin and resting his head on it.

It'd be quite foolish of him not to see how much has changed since the last time they've talked. The apartment is a good example of it. It's not that Kevin is a messy person - he's not, Dan knows him - but earlier the place looked lonely, the lack of personal stuff his earlier roommate put everywhere screamed that it should be inhabited by more than one person.

Dan discreetly glances over the books Stephanie must have put on the shelf, the cushions she must have organised on the sofas. Now the apartment seems so much better. So much more alive.

"Your place looks nice," Dan comments.

"Oh, shut up, please," Kevin says with a groan.

"Really, no kidding," he convinces and his friend stares at him doubtfully but shrugs, letting out a breath.

"So what's up, kid?" Kevin asks, watching him closely.

Dan smiles weakly. "I'm not a kid," he protests.

"Yeah? So you mind if I take a look at your ID?" Kevin asks and Dan mutters _'That's not fair.'_

"Life's not fair," Kevin retorts and Dan rolls his eyes.

"Whatever, _grandpa_."

"You know there are pictures of two missing kids on TV?" Kevin asks nonchalantly and Dan takes in a sharp breath. "On almost every damn news."

"What do they say?" he asks in a whisper.

The boy beside him shrugs. "Same stuff. Appearance, age, your _clothing-_ "

"God, that's stupid," Dan mutters.

"Tell me about it," Kevin agrees. "They said the father of the missing wants his kids back," he covers the news and Dan shuts his eyes. "That he wants it more than anything on the world."

Dan breathes out slowly.

"You ever thought about coming back?"

He turns and stares at Kevin, having trouble believing the question he's just heard.

"I mean, come on," his friend says in defence. "Face it, Dan! You're barely making it through each day and Dick The Boss isn't helping you. You've got Nes learning the cello and I know it must be a bitch to pay the rent _alone_ ," he guesses, staring right into Dan's unrelenting eyes. "Goddamnit," he bursts out, "why are you so stubborn to make your life hell? He didn't _disown_ you, Dan," Kevin points out, "he's looking for you and your sister! You. Both. After two fucking years, Dan!" he finishes his tirade, tapping at his forehead.

"It's not two years," Dan says quietly. "Not yet."

Kevin lets out an incomprehensible groan. Dan flinches as he leans closer to him.

"You could go back, Dan. Easily," he convinces, his tone calm again as he tries to find Dan's eyes.

"Can't," Dan mumbles as he looks ahead, at nothing in particular.

"Dan, he loves you-"

Dan cuts him off with an icy stare before Kevin's mouth products another word.

"You don't know that," Dan growls. "You don't know what happened four years ago."

What he can't handle is having to listen to this bullshit.

Kevin doesn't look away from his angry brown eyes.

"Then tell me," his friend challenges him to, firmly locking his eyes with Dan's. "Tell me why did you have to run away? With your sister?"

Dan is the one who breaks from the other's gaze. He breathes out deeply, long, until he composes himself.

"I told you," he says, taking another breath out. "I had to."

"Whatever you guys fought about. . ." Kevin drifts off and shakes his head. "It's not worth going through everything, Dan. Your boss will not stop there," he tries to convince him and, oh God, how close to the truth he is. "He will hurt you more, Dan."

He looks up. Kevin observes him carefully, the fire in his eyes gone, the nose not scrunched, but his forehead wrinkled and eyebrows drawn together.

"He won't," Dan says.

Kevin sighs, "Dan, maybe some time will pass but he'll do it again-"

"He won't," Dan repeats with pressure. He doesn't believe himself.

"Dan. . ."

"He won't. I talked with his boss. He can't do anything to me," Dan says.

The lie rolls off his tongue so easily that Dan wishes he could tell Phil about everything in the same way.

"I'll be fine, Kev. Just four months and I'll be an adult."

Kevin raises an eyebrow. "But you'll still be the kid who kidnapped his sister."

Dan groans as he lets his knees fall to the floor and stands up from the sofa.

"I'll adopt," he says as he paces to and from the other side of the room. "I'll buy a ticket to the freaking Iceland or wherever he won't be able to find us. I'll wait till she turns eighteen, too, if I have to," he explains as he stops in front of his friend.

Kevin moves on the sofa. He tilts his neck, scratches his head.

"I still don't get it. Why?"

Dan crosses his arms in front of his chest.

"I won't let her go back to him."

"Why?"

Dan looks down and bits hard on his bottom lip.

That's it, right? The moment when he tells Kevin what his father has done. Someone who should be an authority figure to him, a person he could trust, that should love and protect him. He couldn't risk that Kevin would feel the civil duty to let the police know that a runaway's and his younger sister's lives could be in danger.

Dan has to tell him.

And so he takes in a large breath and, voice shaking, fingers scratching anxiously at his arms as he stands there, Dan explains as calmly as he can.

He has no idea how to sugarcoat what he's about to say so he settles on passing the facts. Kevin's widening eyes tell him to find a better, more subtle words but it's done, he can't say them back now nor he wants to. Kevin has to know the truth, no matter how hard it is.

Tears of relief create a trail down Dan's face but he carries on, shuddering as he reminisces the past, the old memories resurfacing and bringing a new pain, as if the four years did nothing to minimise the hurt.

At last, he finishes his story, voice thick, eyes fixed on the floor. Neither of them speaks. If Dan were Kevin, he's sure he'd find no words, too. So it comes as no surprise when the silence stretches and stretches as Kevin tries to process his words.

* * *

 **Shout out to people who are still reading in 2017 lol**

 **What do you think of the story so far? Do you have favourite characters? Favourite villains? Both? Let me know your thoughts because I'm not a medium (or am I?)**

 **Anyway, type below what you think of this because it fuels my writing process! And glues a smile on my face :)**

 **Knock on my Tumblr and say hi: superasia8**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi there! Is this the sound of crickets that I'm hearing? Or not? Hope so, I hope you're still there reading because it would feel pretty weird to let this into the world with the thought of nobody seeing it. . .**

 **Anyway, crazy life is a crazy life, I've got nothing to say in my defense xD Bear with me!**

 **I hope you enjoy this a lot!**

 **A shout out to my amazing beta *botanistlester* for doing a great job and helping me with all the awkward phrases. You saved this story, danke!**

 **And now, you may enjoy this chapter :)**

* * *

 _"Your heart is on my sleeve_

 _Did you put it there with a magic marker?_

 _For years I would believe_

 _That the world couldn't wash it away_

 _'Cause we can't fall any further_

 _If we can't feel ordinary love_

 _And we cannot reach any higher_

 _If we can't deal with ordinary love_

 _Are we tough enough_

 _For ordinary love"_

 _[U2, Ordinary Love]_

There's a myth going around campus that says Phil Lester never parties. But it's fake. He does study - a lot in his belief - but he also spends time with other students. He hasn't done that in a long time, to be fair. The fact of the matter is it's been two years since he went out and the decision to do so was his and his decision only. It may have been PJ's and Chris's doing - he could never tell who's for sure - or it may have been Dan's. It's not like Dan and he had gone out anywhere together, let alone for a drink. But maybe it is Dan's doing. He feels like an entirely different person from the one he used to be two months before he met the brilliant guy.

"Okay, guys, attention," exclaims Brandon, standing up on his chair, his legs wobbly.

His classmate may have had one drink too many, but of course he won't stop. He's got another drink in his hand already and he's grinning at the people around the table. Phil rolls his eyes but smiles as Brandon brings a finger to his mouth, silencing the others.

"I'd like to make a toast for Phil," he says and has to yell to break through everyone's chatter. "We've managed to bring our friend back on the right track, let's drink for that!"

He raises his drink and everyone does, too - some taking a sip, some downing their whole drink.

 _'For Phil'_ , they explain.

Phil laughs when Brandon falls of the chair and scrambles from the floor.

It's possible that they all may have had one drink too many.

"Guys, maybe we should head home?" he asks PJ and Chris as he watches Brandon get up and finally sit down, swearing to a grinning girl he's not drunk. "Guys?"

Phil turns around but his two friends are gone. They probably escaped the too many watchful eyes and looked for a more private place where they could focus on each other. As Phil said, they all have had one drink too many. He hadn't even noticed his friends leaving, he was too absorbed by observing others playing 'Would you rather' - he himself passed the opportunity, promising he'd play next time. One guy chose he'd rather eat a big bowl of poop once than have an explosive diarrhea for the rest of his life and another girl chose to read minds instead of being invisible - she had to down her drink.

The party was going great, Phil wasn't _that_ drunk yet but he still felt something was missing. Someone, to be precise.

"Philip!" Brandon sings and Phil looks at his friend questioningly. "Tell me about the session, dude."

Phil looks down at his half-full, half-empty glass.

"It's a secret," he says and unfortunately more eyes turn toward him. He shouldn't have put it that way.

"I have to know if you're making it perfect or not," Brandon points out, taking a sip of his beer.

A girl asks _'what's a secret'_ and someone answers _'the deal'_.

"Oh my God, I have the best idea," his blond friend almost shouts, as if a lightning struck him. He leans toward Phil on the table, eyes glistening in excitement, his chest pushed out as if he's never been so proud of himself.

Phil laughs, "And what is that?"

"You bring around your model," he says and Phil blinks.

"Wha-"

"That's actually a good idea, Phil," Caith cuts in with her Northern accent before he can protest. "You know it's easier to work with anyone if the whole team gets to know them better."

"By getting to know you mean getting drunk," he says to the blonde but he knows she's right.

"Call it whatever you want," she says, shrugging. "I'm just saying. You should bring Dan around."

Hungry-for-knowledge eyes turn toward him, everyone having heard the name. They flick to Caith's face after Phil shakes his head.

"Nope, not saying a word even if I have to drink two shots in less than ten seconds," she throws away an invisible key, sending him an apologetic smile.

Caith is such a slow drinker that her offer is a huge sacrifice.

"Dan? His name is Dan?" Brandon picks up the topic, a toothy grin on his face.

His friends and classmates whisper to each other and another guy asks,

"Dude, we have to meet that Dan," which is met with everyone else's agreement.

Phil sighs. "Okay, I'll see if he's got a free evening," he mutters, defeated.

"To Phil!" Caith shouts, grinning from ear to ear, holding a cocktail in front of her.

"And Dan!" Brandon adds, the drink in his hand wavering.

"To Dan and Phil!" one eager guy concludes and the group of friends agree, all making a toast.

Phil catches a surprised look on Patrick's face from the table next to theirs but he hopes it's because Caith has downed her drink at once for what may have been the first time in her life. He also prays that Dan doesn't hate him when he finds out what Phil agreed to.

They all may have had one drink too many. Dan should understand.

 _. . : : torn pagebreak : : . ._

And then his back hits the wall and Dan lets out a hiss. Michael is so fucking strong. He doesn't look like it, but he has strength when he needs it. Dan may have experienced all of these moments, sadly.

"You hear me? Happens again and I fire you," his boss warns, almost stabbing Dan in the eye with his pointed finger.

"But I've never stolen any money," Dan explains and has to turn his head away in the next second as Michael gets in his personal space.

His face is uncomfortably close to Dan's and Dan grimaces, unable to stop his body from showing how out of his comfort zone he feels.

"I don't give a fuck and I don't believe you," Michael growls, squinting at him hatefully.

"I've never-"

"And who else might have done that, huh?" he practically yells and Dan hunches back. "Who else of the people who work here could have a good reason to steal if not you?"

Dan stammers, "I don't know, okay, but it wasn't me."

He can't lose this job. He doesn't care about Michael's trust, but he can't lose this job. Natalie's well-being depends on it.

Michael looks down at him, nose scrunched as if in disgust.

"I already told you how it's gonna be like. I count how much is in the till, something's missing and you're out," he says, voice cold.

"But- it really wasn't _me_ -"

"Did I tell you what I think of your words?" he cuts Dan off, glaring daggers at him. "I don't give a _damn_ about them."

Dan swallows nervously and one of the corners of Michael's mouth rises in a smile.

"Good boy," he praises as he pats Dan on the head and Dan has to bite on the inside of his cheek to keep his mouth shut.

He can't lose this job, he can't lose this job, he's doing it for Natalie, she counts on him, she. . .

"I'm also cutting you off your pay for the stolen money," Michael adds and Dan turns to his boss, staring at him with wide eyes.

"I didn't do it!" he says as his last resort because his pay has already been cut down. Michael pays him even less, Dan isn't sure he'll be even able to afford the flat, not to mention food or Natalie's cello lessons.

Michael wears a frown on his face and his lips are set into a line, so tight they're almost invisible.

"Until I catch you in the act, it's _your_ pay that's gonna suffer," he says, like it should be obvious. Because anything bad that happens must have been caused by Dan Howell, right?

Dan doesn't make any remark - he doesn't have the energy to argue. He merely sighs heavily and hangs his head down. His arms drop by his sides. He nods because he knows that Michael knows.

The footsteps recede and silence descends over the staff room. Apart from the loud music coming from the main area of the bar, apart from the laughter and people's voices, it's completely quiet for Dan. When the back door opens and closes and he's sure Michael has left, a shaky breath leaves Dan's mouth and he lets one lonely tear to escape from under his eyelids.

It's happening. Michael has Dan in the palm of his hand. And his fingers slowly, bit by bit, will tighten around Dan's throat, too.

At least, Dan thinks bitterly, after this encounter he doesn't need to use any make-up.

It doesn't make him feel any better.

 _. . : : torn pagebreak : : . ._

A migraine.

He's got a migraine from all the talking Natalie does nowadays.

It's like the girl can't keep her mouth closed, feels that every thought that plunges into her mind has to be acknowledged by the whole world. By him, mostly.

"And how has no one questioned you about your age? What did you do?"

The girl has been going on like this for what feels like forever now. Dan brings his hands to cover his eyes and lets out a sigh.

"Guess they were too scared to ask," he answers, his mouth barely opening.

He feels the sofa let out a squeak at the weight of its another visitor.

"And how did you scare them off?"

Dan raises his eyes to the ceiling.

"Natalie, is that really relevant right now? Have you read the next chapter on anatomy yet?" he asks and the teen pouts, bringing her knees up to her chin and looking away from him.

"Not yet," she mumbles dismissively and Dan stares firmly.

"Nat, I swear to God that I'll call off tomorrow's lesson if you don't, and Mrs Farwell will be aware of the reason."

That makes her head turn. She squints her eyes at him and watches him as if he betrayed her.

"You wouldn't."

Dan lets out a tired sigh,

"Nat, can we not do this today?"

He truly has a migraine. The steady beat it sets out, as if a drummer was playing a concert and hitting the plates against his skull, is painful enough. Natalie being, well, her usual stubborn self isn't helping, too.

"You're not my dad," she huffs and Dan lets out a noncommittal sound.

"Oh God, yes, of course I'm not and for that you should be happy," he growls, his own voice to his sensitive ears as if a nail scraping across a car's hood. "Try and learn as much as you can, I'll check your knowledge later," he asks, defeated.

Natalie stands up resolutely from the sofa. Chin up, she rolls her shoulders.

"At my age you've been already working," she protests in the end as she doesn't look at him. Surely crosses her arms, as well. Dan can imagine his sister in no different stance.

"And you will be reading that chapter soon or you won't see one of those books of yours in a long, long time."

In such easy way he has won this battle. There's no room to bargain for Natalie; if it comes to fiction books, his sister is ready to kill for another dose of adventures and new set of characters. Dan always looks out for any book sales, knowing of her little addiction and favourite form of spending what free time she has. He can never repay her lost childhood, but he at least can make it more normal, if just a little.

"That's blackmail!" she shouts.

"Extortion, at most," he retorts.

Natalie mutters under her breath phrases he should have scolded her for, but she turns on her heel and closes the door to her bedroom before he can think of a decent reprimand.

She listened to him this time, at least.

His sister's quickfire questions did not run out. Dan's sure she has plenty in stock yet - sometimes, he sees no difference between her mouth and a machine gun. He also knows how adamant she can become only to get what she wants. This time she wants answers. A thing Dan's reluctant to give.

As long as she doesn't go asking about the reason they left, it should be alright.

He swears upon hearing the most hated sound - his ringtone. The name on the screen brings a smile to his face, though, and Dan quickly forgets his hatred.

"Hi, Phil," he says into the speaker with happiness he wouldn't think of as possible to acquire through a phone call.

"Dan, hey," replies a ragged voice.

Dan scrunches his eyebrows. Phil sounds much, much different than to what he's used to - there's a scratchy side to his words.

"You okay?"

There's a sigh, a moment of silence and then,

"Had a night out with friends from uni," he explains, sounding so tired like he could faceplant anytime. "I'm dying of a monster headache now, though," he adds. It must be regret that made his voice sound so raspy. And kinda sexy.

"Don't worry, we're in this together," he says, feeling as if his head is close to exploding any minute now, as well.

"A rough night?"

"At work, yeah," he speaks and, as to divert his thoughts from his quarrel with Michael, carries on, "and what about you, student? Shouldn't you be bent over your desk, reading books?"

"Not with a killer hangover like this, thank you," Phil groans and a grin spreads across Dan's face.

"Painkillers don't work?" he asks as if to tease him further.

"Actually I figured your voice would help more," the boy confesses and Dan blushes furiously, his heart thumping in his chest.

"Is it working?" he asks, out of pure lack of what else he could say.

"You'd be surprised," he murmurs.

Dan bits on his lip. Do they follow down that road, something unexpected may happen.

"And how is work with your session going? I'll soon start thinking you made up this whole thing only to ask me out," he says playfully and adds, scolding himself mentally for not having a hold of reins over his tongue, "Do you have something on mind? I mean- in mind? For the session?" he blurts out, tripping over his sentences.

"For one, I know I'll follow your suggestion to place the session in plain-air," Phil says, "as for the topic, I've got some ideas and I'd love to hear your opinion on them."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"What are they?" he asks as he settles back in a more comfortable position on the sofa that's too short for his legs.

"Can't tell you yet," comes a cryptic reply.

"Oh, don't be like that! You got me all intrigued and now I'm left to ponder?"

"I'd prefer to tell you when I see you. Some of them are. . . personal," Phil gives away.

"Oh, okay. That's alright," he assures and his aching brain skips to the next level of deliberating. What can Phil want to picture that he's ashamed to talk about it on the phone?

"I've got something to tell you, too," Phil speaks and the beat of Dan's heart halts.

Could it be that he knows? Did someone tell him? Has Phil seen one of the missing reports on TV?

"What is it?" he finally asks, fear turning his headache into a dull, rhythmic thump as he dreadfully waits for an answer.

"I really hope you don't kill me," comes the reply and Dan wonders if this kind of beginning should not make him worry or the opposite.

"What did you do, Phil?" he dwelves as the realisation strikes him. Phil is not about to call him out on not having told about his past. Nor is he going to ask why there are pictures of him on the telly. Phil sounds uncertain, as if he's embarrassed about something.

"Phil?" he asks, unsure, when he receives no answer.

"I accidentally told them about you and now everyone wants to meet you," the boy speaks so fast that Dan finds it hard to follow his train of thoughts, "and they won't let go but I didn't say you'll come for sure, I just promised to ask you because Caith assured me working on the session would be easier that way and I think she's right but if you don't want to do that, then that's totally fine by me, they'll understand, I mean, I won't let them make you do something you're not okay with, they can go piss off, you know, but then, they kind of are right about it in a way, but, please don't feel obliged to do this, it's just their idea and-"

"Woah, woah, hold up," Dan cuts in before Phil winds up so much he pops like an overblown balloon. "Slow down, alright? One sentence at a time."

Phil takes in a breath before he explains, his words no longer racing as if he wanted to win a marathon.

"Caith spilled her guts about you and the whole team got over excited about meeting you."

Dan says nothing as he tries to pin the face to a name.

"Caith?" he prompts, hoping he's not making a faux pas by not remembering her. It's always better sooner than later that Phil acknowledges him, though.

"Oh, Caith? My friend who studies fashion? She helped with the clothes for the session, remember?"

How could he forget her, Dan's got no idea. Caith is the girl who accidentally brought up the tough event from Phil's life. He remembers her well, her cheery chatty tone, warm smile. And he can recall that one talk they had, later that day, in Phil's apartment. The way Phil broke under the pressure of the memories he held for himself for so long.

"My other classmate wouldn't let the matter go, though," Phil carries on, oblivious to his thoughts. "They all want to meet you now."

"Sorry, the team?"

"Yes, I've gathered my uni friends who'll help us with the lightning, makeup and such so everything goes smoothly."

"I thought it would be only you and me," Dan mumbles nervously, fidgeting on the sofa. God, posing in front of Phil was challenging enough. Repeating that in front of a group of people who have experience and expect full professionalism of him? What did he get himself into?

"Well, normally we don't work in such way," Phil admits, "but to pass the semester at least one session has to be done with a team."

Dan swallows. That's even better. If he fails, the rest of the team may not pass their year. Great. He loves having more people to let down.

"Dan? Something's wrong?"

It's up until this point he realises he's hyperventilating.

"No, it's okay," he chokes out.

His voice would surely be the last definition of 'okay'.

"When would you want to meet?" Dan pushes on, trying to control his breathing.

"It's up to you. Whenever suits you best."

"I'll check my schedule and call you," he promises.

His work time may change, now that he's become a thief. Bloody hell. It must be his lack of luck. So his six days a week work may turn into seven a week. No time for an evening out if that's the case. He hopes that cutting his pay off was the end of the punishment for his so-called theft. Dan can do nothing but hope. He wouldn't want to disappoint Phil.

"And Phil? Don't let them know yet. You'll get them excited over nothing."

"Alright but I'm excited myself already. I think they'll see and my cover will be blown."

"Then don't get yourself caught," Dan says with a smile.

"I doubt I have the power. I'm too impatient."

"Aren't you always? You seem to poop energy and rainbows all around you every day," he jokes, turning on the sofa so he's more comfortable.

"Well, I can't do much about it when I know I'm gonna see you soon."

Dan bits down his tongue but cannot not agree, "We share similar feeling," and the boy laughs but it holds so much fondness Dan blushes. Good that he can't be seen.

"I'm glad we do." They share a two-second silence when Dan hears a rumble that can come only from a ravenous person.

"Jesus, Phil. Did you even have breakfast yet?" Dan giggles at the lack of response. "You should go, I'd feel bad if your stomach ate itself."

"I'm not even _that_ hungry," the boy disagrees and as if to prove Dan right, his belly lets out another warning sound. "Alright, maybe just a tad hungry."

"A tad?"

"Shh, okay, I better go and feed the monster," he says and Dan cringes.

"Oh God, please, never use that word in such context again," he pleads. Phil laughs.

"Can't promise anything. See you soon?"

"Hope so. Have a nice meal, Phil, and. . . don't eat the whole city, okay? I don't want to see in news that my boy- that you've attacked London," he says, changing his words in the last second, face in flames and he swears at himself again and again.

Oh God. Make Phil say something, please, anything.

"I'll try to stick to my fridge only," he replies as if nothing has happened.

"Fingers crossed that you do. Bye then."

"Bye, Dan."

Dan lets out a relieved breath only when he disconnects the call. That was close. Shit.

His slip up got him thinking, though. When it comes to labels and words - who are they? They should have specified that, by now. At least he thinks they should. God, he wishes he's had some experience with dating. He'd know what to do. Well, if he's made a mistake, Phil shouldn't blame him, he's still learning.

Dan sighs as he stares up at the ceiling.

A wide grin grows on his face then as he realises the thump inside his brain is gone. Dan is headache free. Come to think of it, Phil's voice works miracles, too.

* * *

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	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks to my beta *** botanistlester *** for help. She works** wonders

* * *

 _Where have all the good men gone_

 _And where are all the gods?_

 _Where's the street-wise Hercules_

 _To fight the rising odds?_

 _Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?_

 _Late at night I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need_

 _I need a hero_

 _I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night_

 _He's gotta be strong_

 _And he's gotta be fast_

 _And he's gotta be fresh from the fight_

[Bonnie Tyler, Holding Out For a Hero]

They barely make it on time for Natalie's lesson. Again. He told his sister to hurry up but would she listen to him? Yeah, he thought she would. What a naive brother he is.

"Don't break anything this time," he warns Nat as they come close to Sophia Farwell's house, the lady who teaches playing violin. Nice elderly woman, she is.

"It _wasn't_ my fault. Mrs Farwell told so," she defends herself and Dan shoots her a glance that says _'really?'_.

"Only because she's under your charm," he points out.

Nat crosses her arms, a pout on her face already.

"Not my fault she likes me," she mumbles. "Anyway, that vase shouldn't stand on such tiny table!"

Dan rolls his eyes as he rings the doorbell.

"Just be careful."

The elderly lady opens the door seconds later.

"Good morning, Mrs Farwell," he says, as always.

"Hello Dan. Hi, Natalie!" She smiles when his sister chimes _'Hello, Mrs Farwell!'_ in a joyful tone. "Are you excited to play today?"

"Yes, Mrs. Dan threatened he'd call our lessons off if I didn't read a really long and boring book," she complains, puppy eyes and all.

Dan flushes as he mutters weakly, "It was Biology."

The lady laughs soundly. "I see your brother's got a good hold of your education."

"Well, I don't think I'll need all that knowledge in my life but at least I'm here today."

Dan shoots her a murderous glance. Jesus. The kid won't ever stop saying too many things. He should let Natalie know that Mrs Farwell probably doesn't want to listen to all that.

"Nat-" he's about to tell her off but the lady just laughs once again, as if she's heard the best joke on the planet. His sister so easily makes everybody fall in love with her and Mrs Farwell is no exception.

"Come in, come in." Natalie follows and the lady turns to him, "Do you want to listen to her play, Dan? She's made great progress."

"Won't I be interrupting you?"

Sophia Farwell smiles kindly. "Oh, not at all! She'll be on cloud nine to show you what she's learnt so far," she whispers and open the door wider.

 _. . : : torn pagebreak : : . ._

Dan knows close to nothing about classical music. Zero. But even he must admit that Natalie's play was impressive.

He saw the first fear in his sister's eyes when Mrs Farwell told about her idea. It seemed to scare Natalie to play in front of him. Once she warmed up, though, Dan thought she forgot he was there. Honestly, it seemed like she has forgotten about Mrs Farwell, as well. The whole world didn't exist when the bow danced across the strings and she created a music finer than anything he's ever heard.

Mrs Farwell sent him a smile and that's when he realised he was grinning himself. He couldn't help but feel proud. The kid was like Beethoven. She's been taking lessons only for a year but damn, she obviously knew what to do with the instrument.

The two-hour lesson ended before he felt the time pass.

"Wow," he said as Natalie and he walked back home.

"What? I was bad, wasn't I? I missed like a ton of chords." She scrunched up her nose as if she smelled rotten meat.

"No, you were- it was really good, indeed. Really."

No matter what it takes, Dan will make sure she can attend her lessons. The kid needs them. Not only is she talented, but it clearly helps her unwind from stress. He's never seen her smile so much as in those two hours.

"You're for real?" Natalie asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, you were incredible," he sees no point in denying.

Natalie watches him, probably determining if he's telling the truth.

"Gee," she says at last. He probably passed her little test. "I want this tattooed on my body. Incredible Natalie," she thinks out loud, "or no. My brother thinks I'm awesome. What suits better?"

"My brother thinks I'm crazy," he teases. Nat narrows her eyes but the happy mood quickly comes back.

"It's too late now," she says, raising her chin up. "I heard you and don't think I'll forget."

She clearly thinks she's won.

Dan will let her. Just this once.

"Incredible Natalie," she mutters from time to time as they walk home.

"Crazy Natalie," he whispers back and gets a full view of her tongue. He laughs.

"Incredible, Danny, incredible," she repeats. She stops in her tracks momentarily and Dan blinks. "Oh. My. God," she says, eyes wide opened and Dan scans their surroundings, searching for danger.

"What?!" he hisses, heart pounding. Jesus, is it police? What did she see?

"Natalie, the new Mozart," she states, dream-like voice and Dan facepalms mentally, his heartbeat slowing down a bit.

"You're insane," he says, angry at her but at the same not able to scold her for being, well, herself.

Natalie shrugs, "Geniuses were often insane, Dan. Stupid? Never. Incredible and insane. But never stupid."

Modesty isn't her strongest trait.

 _. . : : torn pagebreak : : . ._

He's started this and now he's got to deal with the consequences. Natalie has been humming Bonnie Tyler's _'I need a hero'_ for the whole afternoon. When she stopped, Dan sighed with relief. But his happiness wasn't destined to last long. His sister quickly made up new lyrics for the song and has been singing them for the rest of the day. Now, Dan wishes he could make a hole in his brain because the lyrics go on and on.

 _I am a hero, I'm playing cello like a hero 'til the end of the night, strong as stone, fast as lightning, always ready to fight. . ._

Jesus, he'd scratch his ears out if that helped.

In a minute, he's both humming and cringing as he comes closer to the back entrance, used by delivery and staff. Dan's sure Natalie has used some trick and programmed the song into his brain. Now it won't stop playing for the rest of his shift.

 _I am a hero, I'm playing cello like a hero 'til the end of the-_

"I didn't know I'd find you here!"

Dan turns around at the voice, disoriented. His eyes fall upon a man. He seems familiar-

"It's you," he says, almost spits. He makes neither a move forward or backwards. Frozen to the spot, his fists clench around the ring of keys.

"Hi Dan!" the guy greets cheerfully as he walks up to Dan.

Dan watches his every step with attention. He doesn't trust that nameless guy. The shirt and jeans seem to be designer clothes, very expensive, and it looks as if the owner was on his way to Broadway. Or some catwalk. Anywhere else but here. He fits to this place as much as Dan would in a ballet school.

"How're you doing, Dan?" he asks, voice so cheery that Dan's afraid he'll feel obliged to give him a pat on the shoulder. Dan takes a step back.

"Wow, you're not talkative today, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're playing but you're not who you said you are," he speaks, sounding unfamiliar to himself. But he's pissed and his voice clearly reflects that.

"Where's that tone come from, Dan?" the guy smiles.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Phil's friend-"

"Bulshit. Who. Are. You," he says, stepping closer, lips pulled in a tight line.

"Phil got my package?"

That throws him off balance. Dan blinks.

"There was nothing inside-"

"I see he did. . ." he says thoughtfully, as if he hadn't heard Dan at all. He lets out a sigh. "Alright, you got me." He raises his hands up, lets out a single laugh. "I may have not told you the truth the other day but I didn't know how else talk to you."

Dan raises an eyebrow.

"Who are you?"

"I'm your friend, Dan. I have something you need and I can give it to you. If you help me."

"Who the fuck are you?" he barks, annoyed. His shift starts in a few minutes and he'll scream if he gets in trouble because of one smartass.

The guy falls silent. His smile turns wide.

"You can call me Jack."

Dan rolls his eyes. He's not stupid to believe any word he says.

"Right. Look, Jack, you're a really intriguing guy. Thank you for the nice chat and, please, don't show up here again because I swear I'll throw you out myself," he says with a smile. As he turns around, it drops.

He takes a few steps.

"Thousand! Thousand pounds," the guy yells.

 _Funny._

"I know you need it, Dan," he says and something snaps in Dan.

He spins back and answers through gritted teeth,

"You know shit. Leave me alone."

He turns to walk away but the guy grabs his arm. Firmly.

"Don't pretend your life's easy. It's nothing to be ashamed of. We all need money. Two thousands, alright? You want to bargain, then okay. Two thousands," so called Jack says and Dan tries to shake off his grip but he's strong. He stares into the guy's eyes and feels disgust at the greedy look in them.

"Two thousands, Dan. Think. It's a nice number."

"And what? You're gonna give me it from, what, the goodness of your heart?" he asks bitterly, more joking than expecting an answer.

Jack isn't smart enough to understand it, though.

"No, nothing's free, Dan, I think you know it," he says with a smirk. "All you gotta do is not show up at the shoot."

Dan hisses, "What?!"

"Just walk away, Dan. Don't do the shoot. And two thousands is yours."

Who is this guy?

Jack lets him go. Takes a step back, smiling.

"Think about it. Two thousands. For _nothing_ ," he says with pressure. "Just- Do nothing, Dan, and you've got extra cash in your pocket. Think it through! It's a fair deal!" he assures as he walks away.

Dan stares after him for a moment, unblinking.

For him, there was nothing to think about. The guy was fucking insane if he believed Dan would agree. No, not insane. He was no genius. Jack, or whichever name truly belonged to him, was simply and utterly stupid.

 _. . : : torn pagebreak : : . ._

Mind steering onto subjects different than drinks, beer and orders, Dan manages to mess up more than on the busiest day.

"That is not tequilla, Dan," Nessie hisses discreetly as he almost pours vodka. "Jesus, however big party you've been to, you're worst than me with a hangover. Give me that," she slips in, nudging him away with her hips. Dan bites on his lip as he stands back and she fixes the drink swiftly and quickly. One, two seconds and done.

When the client walks away with the right drink, she turns to him.

"What was that? Are you awake or sleepwalking?"

"Awake," he mumbles, cheeks flushed. "Just distracted."

Nessie shakes her head, the red curled hair dancing, as well.

"Alright. Ten minutes will be enough for you?" she asks and Dan furrows his brows.

"What?"

"Ten minutes, alright? Just- go sort yourself out and come back with a fresh mind."

"Ness. . ." he drifts off with a pleading voice.

"Now. Go, Dan. If a chick wants to get your number, I'll call you back, don't worry," she jokes.

"Ness, really, it's okay-"

"Don't argue, just go. For the sake of work," she adds but worry breaks through her playful tone.

"Ten minutes," Dan emphasises, fixing his gaze with hers.

She smiles to him and turns to another client as he walks to the staff room. He takes in a breath, then a second and third. And so on. And on.

Truth be told, he wishes for a talk with Phil. The creepy guy was disturbing in a way. The confidence he carries around with as much grace as queen a crown made Dan uneasy. Jack seemed to be sure he'd agree. As if he knew Dan or his situation at least. And these words. . . _I know you need it._ Who the hell is he? Walk away from the shoot? He'd sooner break a bone _and_ help Phil with the session, limp be damned.

"One of your fans came," Nessa's voice breaks through his thoughts, her head poking through the door. She sends him a small smile. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah. . . Ten minutes is up?"

Nes nods, "Sorry, but it's crazy out here tonight."

"That's okay. It's good now," he assures and follows his friend back to the bar.

Dan messes up more than ten orders.

* * *

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	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Yes, this story is alive. The project's so complex at times it's complex to write. Sorry for the breaks in between updates.

Endless thanks to my beta. I added some words and deleted some more, as well, but it hasn't been checked afterwards. Credit for all mistakes goes to me but worship for putting this together to botanistlester :)

* * *

Nessa shoots an apologetic glance as she slings the bag over her shoulder. She stops, and then, turning, she drags herself back to the bar where he's putting away the glasses.

"I can stay and help you. It's no problem at all," she offers quietly.

Dan shakes his head violently about to explain it's not necessary but Michael beats him to it.

"Keep out of this."

He flinches no matter how hard he tries not to.

Michael leans against the door frame, his blond curly hair keeping half of his face in shadows. His arms have no visible muscle lines drawn on them but somehow there's strength to his frame which can pass undetected. He steps from the door and into the poor light of the staff room. His features as if sharpened by the bulb overhead.

"Help him and then you may as well give him a hand with finding a new job."

Dan has been – more or less – officially called a thief. No public statements or speeches were made but Michael threw little comments here and there for sure. Even colleagues from other shifts, with whom he chats seldom at most, now avoid him whenever possible. If Dan walks into their peripheral vision, it's granted they watch his hands with so much attention as if they believed he'd either steal or perform a magic trick.

Instinct screeches. Whenever Dan thinks how the situation may unfold, dread twists his guts. The supervision may not be enough of a proof for Michael. What then?

In the present he gives Nes a warm smile, trying to chase off the bad feeling.

"See you tomorrow, as always?"

The girl cracks a comforting smile and nods. She leaves quietly but not without a hostile glance toward their boss.

Dan breathes out deeply, grabs the broom, and goes to sweep the floors. He can't wait to get home, have some tea, and perch on the sofa for a bit. He'll have to check up Natalie's progress on 'homeschooling' later. He holds onto the hope that she's sensible about something as trivial as education.

Michael stands in the doorway, observing Dan's work. His presence alone makes Dan's heart skip a beat.

"You should be grateful I didn't give you the sack," he speaks up at last. Dan says nothing. "I could. And I should have."

"Then why didn't you?"

Dan can't help but ask as he turns around to Michael. Arms crossed, he leans against the door frame and that's when he realises the man must have been there since Vanessa left. Their gazes cross and Dan drops his, focusing on the task at hand. A part of him regrets having spoken at all, and another fears the silence which drags out. He sweeps the dust, the lost bracelets, rings, and earrings as if it was his life goal.

"Guess I have a sweet spot for strays," he purrs.

Dan wrinkles his nose and turns away from the door, from Michael. The broom works quicker now but with the same amount of efficiency.

Then there's a foreign touch on his body and he gasps.

"What are you doing?!"

"Nothing," Michael answers with a calm smile and Dan blinks, taken aback. He loathes, feels sick but also has no bloody idea how to react to a hand on his ass. Unfamiliar hand on his own butt!

He ends up escaping to the other corner of the room with an excuse to clean up there.

The hand doesn't retreat. He completes the rest of his tasks automatically, standing so straight and with a posture so stiff that he'll probably feel it the next day.

Dan finishes, no goodbye rolling off his tongue. Quickly, he gathers his bag, puts on a light jacket and disappears into the streets before the hand can make its way back.

 _. . : : torn page break : : . ._

This night is no different and it's almost like he sees a pattern.

He lays awake on the sofa. His sister breathes softly in her sleep and if he strains his ears enough, he can hear the city. Dan exhales and rubs a palm over his face.

He goes back to the memory, over and over again, and yet he can't help but cringe. It's unheard of not to react. He should have done something – opposed, screamed, _reacted_. His body has its own set of rules, though. When the foreign, _unwanted_ hands reached his butt cheek – still insane it actually happened – he was paralysed. Instinct told him to pry that touch off of his body but logic pulled out a blinking sign in front of his eyes, as if he were a driver reminded by a speed restriction – you're one step away from a mistake you'll regret.

Dan grunts, rubs at his eyes, but he can't get rid of the image. It stays just on the surface of his consciousness and keeps him awake.

He sits up from the couch at last and tip toes into the kitchen area. The streets down would be empty if not for the few rare cars driving past. He feels pity for others who work night shifts and a touch of jealousy for the party goers who come back home, tired but relaxed after a night out.

Heart beating just a pulse lower, Dan pulls one chair close to the window and sits down. He stares into the night skyline, allowing the numerous lights from the street lamps, windows and cars to take up his mind.

Sleep takes him before he manages to analyse the event yet another time. His last thought is that maybe he imagined it – that'd explain why Michael defined it as 'nothing'. Well. _N_ _othing_ happened. But nothing was something.

 _. . : : torn page break : : . ._

"Can you remember her laughter?"

The question takes him by surprise and he almost chops off his finger instead of the tomato. Neither he or Natalie would be fond of such taste in the meal so Dan stops and looks at his sister.

He can't bring himself to produce words.

Nat is peeling a cucumber by the kitchen counter. She stares at the veggie as though it could do her harm.

"I can't," she says, quietly at first. "I should, it wasn't that long ago. And, you know, it's- it's _mum_ after all. You don't have a lot of them."

Dan's throat constricts. He goes on to interject, cut in but she carries on.

"I try, Dan. I-" her own closes up. She stops skinning the vegetable but her eyes stay fixed on it. "I try so _hard_ and- she's disappearing despite all my effort. Just like- I don't know, a memory. And she's not one, she's a person. She's mum. I-"

She munches on her lip - a habit she seems to be inheriting, Dan should lecture her not to bully her face like that but he doesn't. He sets the vegetable down and turns towards her.

"Do you think it means I didn't love her? I mean, I should remember her and I barely do. She doesn't feel real at times."

Dan swallows thickly and looks at Natalie so their eyes connect.

"No," his voice is rough, "that's a lie. Even if it seems like you don't remember her face, her laughter- even if it feels like you don't remember _her_ , it's somewhere there," Dan taps at his head and then points to his heart, "and here."

It sounds cheesy and cliche. He can't help it.

Nat scrunches up her eyebrows.

"What if it's not the case? What if one day I'll forget everything I do know about her? It's so little today, what will be left tomorrow? The next month? In a year?"

A weight so heavy resides within her eyes that he needs to let her know.

"You've got me," he gives her a small smile and a nudge. "And I'll be there to help you remember. You won't forget because I won't let you."

They break eye contact, though she's the one to do so first.

"An old chap," she mutters under her breath. Through her glistening eyes, a smile spurts into life.

"At your service, Ma'am," he responds, bowing slightly, much to her amusement.

"You're a living cringe, you know that?"

Dan pulls a really derpy face and the effort pays off with a little giggle. Higher chance of wrinkles in his future - if such is to come - is totally worth it.

They work on the dinner in silence, and it's only when they're sitting by the tiny, uneven table, ready to dig into the food that Natalie whispers,

"Thanks, Dan."

She doesn't have to say that. Dan knows and he nods.

"Dan?"

He looks up from his plate. Natalie stares into hers, playing with the food rather than actually consuming it.

"I- I've always wondered. . . why did dad leave us?" she asks, voice hushed. She bites on her lip. "Was it because he didn't love us? I can't remember it well."

Dan sets his fork down with an outright obsessive carefulness.

"Natalie, we've had this conversation already-"

"-then let's have it again," she cuts in. "Why can't you just explain what happened two years ago?"

"I told you, Nat-"

"-You told me jack shit," she barks in. "I deserve to know! It's my dad, too! Stop treating me like a child."

"Then stop acting like one!"

Silence falls upon.

They stare at each other, equally surprised. Dan mumbles a desperate,

"I didn't mean that, Nat. . ."

She raises her chin high, all proud and hurt.

"Course." She looks away from him and stands up.

"You didn't even finish your food. . ." he tries gently.

"I'm going."

"Where?"

"Out."

He stands up, as well, but his sister adds,"Alone."

The door creaks as Natalie leaves the flat. Dan drops back into the chair, pushing away his own plate. He bites at his lip and shuts his eyes. No one told him brotherhood would be this hard.

With a sigh, he moves to the sofa and turns on the TV. Natalie may not be little anymore but to him, she'll stay a baby sister he has to protect. He can't help it. He's skipping channels when a set of pictures catches his attention.

He sits straight, clicks back to the news channel and turns up the volume with a shaky hand.

 _'And with me is the father of the two kids that have been reported missing two years ago. James, tell us about that tragic day.'_

The camera pans to a man but not just any man. Dan's breath hitches as he watches his father.

 _'I went to wake up the kids._ _It_ _was summer_ _so I thought_ _they were sleeping in late. . .'_ he trails off, empty eyes staring into a memory only he can see and Dan swallows thickly.

 _'It's okay, James,'_ the presenter cuts in. _'And what happened after? What did the police say?'_

The man exhales. He coughs as if to mask his pause.

" _T_ _hey suspected kidnapping at first but I- I knew no one stood behind this.'_

 _'So you were sure they ran away?'_

The man on the screen, his father, nods.

 _'Why? According to your neighbours, I cite, "They couldn't believe in the tragedy as you were a perfect father". Neither had the police ever been informed about any sort of abuse happening in your family. Why would they leave then?'_

Dan bares his teeth.

"You know why," he speaks to the box, his voice taking on a low dark tone.

 _'Their mother, that is my- my wife has passed away two years before my kids-'_ he stops, short for breath. _'They must have been upset and- and I- and thought running will make it easier. I can see no other reason.'_

Dan laughed. No other reason? What a shitload of crap.

 _'In fact, a large percentage of missing kids have chosen to leave their families because of problems at home,'_ the woman says to the the camera. _'What can we do to ensure our loved ones won't go running away? How can we prevent it from happening and what steps can we take when the unthinkable happens? These and many more questions will be answered in a minute by one of the representatives of the organisation which helps young runaways come back. Before we finish, James, would you want to say something to your kids if they were watching?'_

Dan balls his fists as the addresses man turns his pleading eyes towards the camera. His voice is shaky and the words shatter whenever his lips pause, pursing into a pained, strained expression.

 _'Whatever troubled you, we can sort it out together. I won't be mad at you, just. . . please, come back to me. I love you both. Come back,'_ he chokes out and the camera zooms away from the shuddering shoulders back to the presenter.

 _'We all can hope and pray that you find your children and your lives can get back to normal,'_ she says softly, offering comfort in shape of tissues. As soon as she turns to the camera, her face turns determined. _'But we also can take action. That's why in hopes of feedback, we were allowed to show the following pictures. If you have seen or have any information that could help this poor father get his children back, call the following emergency line number_ _and be sure_ _-'_

Dan shuts the TV with one click and tosses the remote on the couch. It buries somewhere between the cushions but he can't be bothered. The presenter's voice as if reverberates through the flat for a few more seconds, but it plays out longer in his head.

He uncurls his hand – knuckles taken on a white colour – and paces. A few deep breaths won't help, as well.

Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. It's all a fucking lie that the man – he can't gift him with the name that biology empowered him – feeds everyone. No one's looking for them. No one wants them back. Two years should be enough to give up the appearance. After all there's nobody else to convince. Whatever game the man is playing, as long as it lets them stay under the radar, he cannot be bothered about the man.

He thinks back to the programme.

The man wanted to make their life hell, that's for sure. The rows and rows of screens on shop displays that will show their old pictures are just too easy to imagine.

Realisation strikes. Mouth dry, Dan stops pacing, unable to make any more step.

Images of his little sister flash before his eyes.

If she's to sneak out, it'll be to ravage her favourite second-hand bookshop in search of some long forgotten best seller. A teeny tiny TV is placed on the counter in front of the owner. The box probably has no off switch whatsoever – a news channel is always on. Keeps the owner up to date.

Dan vaguely remembers having locked the door. Heart pounding, his foot slips on the stairs. He comes down a few steps but before he can break his neck, he grips the railing. He picks himself up in no time and rushes down the street.

 _. . : : torn page break : : . ._

He finds her between the fiction and fantasy section. It's a relief to see her.

"Hey," he chokes out, breathless from the run.

An attempt to calm down is a lost game already. Though Nat is within an arm's reach, it doesn't feel safe as the owner bores a glance into his skull. True, he hasn't said his greeting but the man wouldn't seem it so inappropriate. Unless-

"What? You want to apologise? Bit late for that, Danny," the teen spits out as she flips through a book.

He glances at the owner. He's on the phone and Dan's whole body tingles for action. He takes a breath, though, and for the sake of them both he keeps his voice as gentle as his wretched nerves allow him to.

"I'm sorry. I am. I didn't mean it like that. Got carried away. Please, Nat."

He's begging but a drowning man catches at a straw and that's all he is, isn't he? Drowning in all the mishaps and fall outs with law and ways to walk around it without being detected.

His sister huffs.

"Yeah. Well, too bad I'm busy."

Dan bits on his lip. His heart beats faster the longer the owner is on the line. Not good. A drowning man. They don't have the time to fight. Dan grabs her arm – the last resort to knock some sense into her.

"Listen, Nat," he whispers, leaning towards her, "we gotta go. Our pictures are all across the TV and the owner is probably just calling the police."

He watches as she processes the words. Her face remains unchanged. But it's the word that shocks him to the very bones.

"So what?"

Dan blinks a few times instead of asking what the actual fuck.

"Maybe I don't want to run anymore."

"Natalie," he scolds her, keeping his voice quiet but commanding. "We're leaving. Now."

"Then go," she says flatly.

Dan takes a step back, wondering if he's heard right.

"Are you kidding? Stop."

"No, Dan. I'm serious."

"Natalie, we really have to go, there's no time to waste. The police can be here any minute-"

"Then tell me why are we on the run?" There must be a very dumb look reflecting on his face for she adds, "Hurry, Dan, there's no time to waste, as you said,"

The owner has stopped the call and Dan can't shake off the possibility that he's staring. Dan swallows. Drops his gaze to the floor. A drowning man. That's all he is.

"Mum," he chokes out at last.

"What?!"

Dan lets out a breath and their eyes fix.

"Mum. He's got a hand in it."

She blinks, her eyes searching across his face for affirmation.

"What? I mean, how?"

He looks up, shutting his eyes. He's so exhausted of putting the truth in the back shelf, away from her explorative hands.

"I'll explain it to you, I really will," he looks back to her. "I promise. But right now we gotta flee."

Nat stares but nods. She sets the book back onto the shelf and they turn toward the exit.

"You're leaving?" the owner asks. "Maybe the young lady would be interested in the book 'Following Dreams'? New York Times's best seller," the owner offers and Dan tries for his smile to look friendly.

"No, thanks. We have to go."

They're halfway to salvation- the exit, that is.

"Or another one," the man counters. "A way back home?"

Blood runs cold and Dan falters in his step. The man doesn't take a second to notice.

"Ah, I caught you. You should be ashamed. Kidnapping a little girl!"

"Fuck off, I'm not little!" Nat joins in and Dan can't speak, can't think. It's happening, it's happening now and there's police coming and this man-

"She has a family and a loving father worried sick for her!"

Somehow it sends him into action. Dan takes the last few steps and tries the handle. The door's locked. They're trapped.

The owner steps from the cashier and Dan desperately scans the room for a solution.

"Open the door," he orders, voice low.

"I'll help you get back home, how do you like that? Back to your father?" he speaks to Nat.

His sister scrunches her nose in disgust and Dan realises what it's directed at. She's not little. He's been ignoring how grown up she truly is. It's easier that way.

"Open the door, I said," Dan bellows. The owner says nothing, eyes fixed on Nat as if entranced by her.

Dan looks about once more. His gaze lands on a magazine rack next to the door. It looks sturdy enough. He groans at he prospect of what he's about to do and mutters under his breath,

"I tried to be polite. Nat, shield your eyes," he instructs.

As soon as she complies Dan grabs the rack. There's no room for moral dilemma as its contents empty off with a few shakes. The man doesn't understand yet. Dan doesn't enlighten him. Eyes closed, he swings the rack at the glass part of the door.

It breaks into pieces like a frozen puddle of water stepped on by an uncatious passer-by.

The alarm starts. A shrieking sound. The owner yelps but Dan shouts back a threat. The man shuts up and takes a step back behind the counter.

Dan quickly pulls of his jacket, no time for sensibilities, and wraps it around his hand. He clears the upper space from any residual glass. He lifts Natalie and manhandles her so she reaches the other side without even coming close to the sharp ends of the window. When her feet stand safely on the other side, he follows in suit. His hand meets a stray shard of glass. He neglects the pain, though he has some good new curse words up his mouth, and quickly shakes the jacket off. He grabs Nat by the hand and they break into a run.

 _. . : : torn page break : : . ._

They stop few streets later. Dan turns his jacket inside out, thanking for how it becomes a new design that way. He gives it to Nat.

"Put it on and pull your hair into a ponytail. They guy will remember a girl with straight hair and that's about it," he tells, mostly to himself. Natalie follows his instructions like a soldier.

Her hands are shaking and he wishes he had time to comfort her, but they don't have the luxury.

"Look at me." She does and it's scary because her face is unreadable. "It's okay, alright? We're fine. We're okay."

She then hugs into him, her head rests against his chest. He runs his healthy hand through her hair, aware not to stain her with blood from the other hand.

"Everything's alright."

She lets out a shuddering breath as if to contradict this.

"We have to go. Can't stay here." He looks around and luckily recognises the surroundings. "What do you say we visit Kevin?"

She nods and they set into a walk. Had they gone home, they could stumble upon a police patrol. They always send them.

They take back alleys and shady streets and Dan grips Nat's hand as they move along a group of smoking guys. He shields her from their view and they walk quicker, but don't run. That's the rule. Don't make anyone think you're scared. Fear attracts danger and makes an easy target.

* * *

A/N: In the next chapters we'll see more interaction between the boiz. Dark times are coming though.


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